


Helland High

by Maddie_Jae



Series: Helland High [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bullying, Dean/orig female character is like one scene - she's a plot device, F/M, Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-13
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-01 18:25:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 63,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12710460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maddie_Jae/pseuds/Maddie_Jae
Summary: “Well, Sammy, it’s official.  High school is truly hell.”





	1. First Day at Helland High

**Author's Note:**

> Please suspend your disbelief for the gymnastics scenes. I've done a fair amount of research but have never taken gymnastics myself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suspend your disbelief for the gymnastics bits. I did a fair amount of research, but have never taken gymnastics myself.
> 
> Thanks for reading!

**Monday, January 12th**

“Well, Sammy, it’s official. High school is truly hell.”

“What? We haven’t even started yet.” Sam said with a chuckle as he crossed the frozen parking lot beside his brother. The two left footprints in the snow as they marched across the dead grass in front of the school.

Dean pointed at the large lettering above the main entrance: **Helland High School**. “It’s right in the name, buddy. Good luck this semester.”

“You’re hilarious.” Sam said sarcastically.

Sam and Dean Winchester had been dropped off by their father in Sioux Falls, South Dakota two nights previously with the promise that they would be attending a full semester at one of the local high schools. Dean was naturally doubtful; the longest he’d ever spent at a single school was for two months back in his sixth grade year.

Since their dad had finally gotten around to teaching Dean how to sign up for credit cards using fake identities, Dean decided that he and his little brother deserved to go to the only private school in town. The Helland school system had two schools; an elementary school, grades pre-k through seventh, and a high school, grades eight through twelve. Sam was eleven, soon to be twelve, and should be going to the elementary school as a seventh grader. But when Dean heard the elementary school kids had to wear _uniforms_ , he took matters into his own hands at the local kinko’s.

The brothers entered the office and were greeted by a little old lady who worked at the front desk.

“How old is the little one, dear?” Sam was small for an eleven-year-old, even smaller for a high schooler, and judging from the way the lady was looking at Sam, she already suspected he was too young. Dean hoped they wouldn’t look too closely at the transcript he’d made.

“Twelve, he’ll be thirteen in May.” He lied smoothly, handing over Sam’s faked papers along with his real transcript. “He’s in the eighth grade.” After the receptionist excused herself, Sam turned to his brother with a sour look on his face.

“How do you know I’ll be able to handle skipping a grade? What if I fail my classes?”

“Shut up, Sammy.” Dean began, not unkindly. “You’re smart enough. I’ll get you a tutor if you really need it, but you won’t, eighth grade is just like seventh.” When Sam didn’t look convinced, he continued. “Sam, I skipped the seventh grade, remember when we moved to that little town in Texas and I told them I was thirteen instead of twelve? If I can do it, you definitely can, you’re way smarter than I was at your age.” Dean nudged his brother to get him to stop staring at his feet. “Besides, you don’t want to go to elementary school, Sammy, you want to graduate as soon as possible so you can get the hell out of here.”

Sam didn’t have time to argue, as the receptionist come back to take their pictures for their school ID’s. Dean elbowed Sam before stepping in front of the camera.

“Blue steel, Sam.” He said, throwing a ridiculous and definitely not-sexy look at the camera. Sam laughed, rolled his eyes and took a normal picture. Once the cards printed out, the receptionist gave the boys their IDs and ushered them into the back of the office to receive their schedules.

The boys had barely walked ten feet into the back hallway of the office when a shout rang out; “I want GABRIEL MILLS! IN MY OFFICE! NOW!” Dean pulled his brother out of the way of a short, dark haired man in a suit who came barreling out of an office labeled **Principal Crowley.**

“Was he british?” Sam asked quietly as the two crept closer to the open door. As they passed by, they couldn’t help but look inside. And once they’d caught a glimpse, they couldn’t help but duck inside to take in the view.

It seemed that someone, in the true spirit of Christmas, had wrapped every little thing inside the principal’s office in Christmas-themed wrapping paper. Dean looked up; Lord, even the ceiling tiles were individually wrapped. The brothers stifled their laughter and scrammed before they could get into trouble before their first day even started.

The boys were standing in the student records office when they heard yelling from the principal again. “Look at this mess, Gabriel! This is ridiculous!”

“What does this have to do with me, Mr. Crowley?” Said a falsely offended voice.

“You know very well, Mr. Mills! You’ll have detention this whole week for this! Now go sit in the hallway and wait for your mother, I’m sure she’ll want a word.”

Dean heard a chair scraping against the wall just outside the door of the office he was in. He ducked his head out into the hallway to look at the wrapping paper genius. A blonde, wavy-haired boy who looked about Dean’s age was slumped in the closest chair, a half-eaten sucker between his fingers.

“Hey.” Dean said, making the boy, Gabriel, look around with an exasperated look. “Nice, dude.” Dean gave the guy a thumbs up and a nod. A smirk appeared on Gabriel’s face that slowly grew into a smile.

“Thanks. I haven’t seen you around, are you new?”

“Yea, first day. Hell of an impression.” Dean chuckled and reached out to shake Gabriel’s hand. “Dean Winchester.”

“Gabriel Mills. What grade are you in, Dean?”

“Junior.”

“Hey, me too.” The two exchanged another good-natured smile before they were interrupted by a very cross looking police officer who was undeniably looking for Gabriel.

Dean slipped back into the student records office before she could start in on the boy, and was handed a slip of paper with an office number on it and a map of the school.

“You’ll have to talk to Coach Singer before I can make your schedule, Dean. He’ll put you in whichever athletics program suits you.” The records lady turned to give Sam his schedule.

“What if I don’t want to be in an _athletics program?_ ” Dean asked, annoyed.

“Physical education is required all five years of high school. So I guess you’d be stuck in gym with the eighth graders if you didn’t like any of the athletics programs.”

Dean scoffed as he and Sam exited her office. The police officer, **Officer Mills** judging by her badge, was talking in hissing whispers to her son. Her eyes narrowed dangerously while listening to Gabriel deny that he had anything to do with the Christmas-wrapped wonderland in the principal’s office. Dean didn’t speak until he and Sam were back in the safety of the school commons.

“Well, buddy, have a good day. Do you have your lunch money?”

Sam gave his pockets a pat-down before answering ‘yup’ and walking down the nearest hallway with his nose buried in a map of the school. Dean started off in the opposite direction; trying his best to keep his nose out of the map on the way to Coach Singer’s office.

 

Dean didn’t expect a coach’s office so full of books. And not just any books; thick, well worn books on topics like particle physics and dead languages. Dean had his head tilted to the side to better read the titles while Coach Singer looked over the papers Dean had brought with him.

“So, Dean, I noticed that your records don’t have any mention of _any_ Phys. Ed. classes. Have you ever played a sport?” Dean turned his attention to Coach Singer. He was a gruff-looking man in his late fifties with a short beard and a baseball cap. He wore gray sweatpants and a long-sleeve button down that was open to reveal a ‘Singer’s Auto’ tee. Despite his roughness, his eyes were exceptionally kind as they regarded Dean from the other side of the desk.

“No, sir. My family moves around a lot for my dad’s job, so I’ve never bothered.”

“Oh, how long will you be at our school?”

“My dad said for the full semester.”

Coach Singer nodded, looking back to Dean’s school records. “Well then, what sports interest you?”

Dean shrugged. He’d never, in all his life, been asked that question.

“What are you good at?”

Dean pulled a face. “Nothing.”

“Well, that’s a lie if I’ve ever heard one. What are you good at, son? Can you fight? Throw a ball?”

“I can fight,” Dean grinned. “Do you offer MMA?”

The coach cracked a smile. “No, no, but we have a pretty good wrestling team, been to state for the past eight years.” Coach Singer opened a desk drawer, pulled out a laminated paper and passed it to Dean. “Here’s a list of all the Phys. Ed. classes we offer.”

  * Baseball
  * Basketball
  * Cheerleading
  * Fencing
  * Football
  * Golf
  * Gymnastics
  * Ice Hockey
  * Lacrosse
  * Soccer
  * Swimming
  * Diving
  * Tennis
  * Track and Field
  * Cross Country
  * Volleyball
  * Weight Lifting
  * Wrestling



  
Dean scanned through the list quickly. “This school offers _fencing_? And _ice_ _hockey_?”

“I’ll be honest, I didn’t figure you for a fencing kid.” Coach Singer said slowly.

“Trust me, I’m not.” Dean furrowed his brow as he read through the list again. “So, what? I pick out some sports I’d like to try out for?”

“That’s the plan.”

“I guess just wrestling, then.” He shrugged.

Coach Singer frowned. “Can you run?”

“I guess so,” He replied, thinking about all the times he’d had to scram when on a job with his dad. “I’m fast enough, but I’ve never been timed.”

“Hm. Well the varsity wrestling team will be here in about ten minutes. I’ll give you a few pointers and then let one of the smaller guys try and turn you into a pretzel. Do you have any running shoes?”

Coach Singer gave Dean a pair of gym clothes and some shoes. Dean changed in an empty dressing room with a **MEN** plaque on the door and stowed his clothes and backpack in Coach Singer’s office.

Eleven guys wearing -frankly ridiculous- spandex onesies were gathered in a semi-circle stretching when Dean found Coach Singer. Dean made himself useful by helping the older man place the mats while the wrestling team stretched and ran five laps around the gym as a warm up. When all the mats were placed, the coach told Dean to go stretch and take some laps while he got practice started.

Dean watched the team while he stretched. After watching the first match on the mat closest to him, he started feeling nervous. After the second, he was just about sweating bullets. This was going to be nothing like the fights he’d been in before; at bars against drunk men hustled out of their cash or against horrible things while on a job with his father. Dean would have to be careful, have to constantly remind himself that throwing punches wasn’t allowed.

He couldn’t watch any more, it was messing with his melon. He could do this, he just had to keep a cool head and not get into a hold he couldn’t get out of. Dean looked around for something to distract himself with, noticing for the first time that the bleachers were peppered with students.

None of them looked like they were doing anything specific or like they belonged there; some were reading, typing on laptops, one guy was even playing what looked like an old school gameboy. _Damn, this school is weird._ He shook his head as he leaned forward to touch his toes.

After Dean stretched every stretch he could think of he started on his laps, trying to keep a quick but steady pace despite the flips his stomach was pulling. Running helped calm his nerves, and instead of five laps, Dean ran eight. At least he knew he was good at this.

He would have kept running if Coach Singer hadn’t called him over. He was standing with one of the wrestlers that looked about Dean’s size on the mat furthest from the rest of the team. As Dean jogged up to them, Coach Singer made the introductions.

“Dean, this is Gabriel Mills. Gabriel, this is-.”

“Dean Winchester.” Gabriel finished boisterously, shaking Dean’s hand with a firm grip. “Stalking me already, I see.”

“Guilty.” Dean said, grinning as Gabriel winked at him.

“Aaannyway.” Coach Singer said, clearly second-guessing putting the two of them together. “Gabriel here is going to give you a few pointers, explain the rules, and let you get a few mock matches in before your title match. Just follow his direction and learn as much as you can.”

Gabriel handed Dean a set of foam earmuffs with elastic straps and an unformed mouthguard as Coach Singer walked away. “Have you wrestled before?”

“No.”

“Okay, been in a fight before?”

“Yes.”

“Good, then the number one rule is ‘don’t punch me.’ Now, this is just like in a real fight once one person goes down-.”

Gabriel was a good instructor; he explained the rules and the point system, then the two crouched down to face each other. Gabriel would stop their matches often to show Dean a move in slow motion, they’d switch places so Dean could try, then switch back and continue. Dean didn’t win a single match, but he learned so much that he felt like winning against Gabriel didn’t matter.

Only fifteen minutes of class remained when Coach Singer approached Dean and Gabriel with one of the smallest wrestlers at his side. “Dean, this is Billy.” Dean shook the kid’s hand as the coach said; “He’ll be your opponent for your tryout match.”

Gabriel immediately pulled Dean off the mat and pushed a water bottle in his hands.

“Okay, Dean. Listen up. Billy’s weak on the left, what you want to do is-.” Dean listened to Gabriel’s tactics with complete focus until Coach Singer hollered at them.

“Will you two quit conspiring and get this started? You boys still need to shower.”

Gabriel lightly smacked Dean in the earmuff with a cheerful ‘You got this, man.’

 

Dean didn’t think the match went well; Gabriel was their ref, and he kept saying dumb shit in a 1940’s transatlantic announcer voice like ‘This is _not_ looking good for the underdog, folks!’ and ‘These men need to quit being weenies!’ It would have been hilarious if Dean had had the luxury of truly listening.

Dean escaped two pins but couldn’t seem to get the kid on the mat for more than a split second. On Billy’s third attempt to pin Dean, (which was silly, Dean could do pushups with the kid on his back all day) Dean remembered one of the more complicated moves Gabriel had shown him.

_To hell with it._ Dean thought as he positioned himself correctly. The kid squirmed, and Dean had a hell of a time, but Gabriel threw himself onto the mat and slapped his hand down once, twice, three times. Dean got off the kid and sat back on his feet, helping the kid up off the floor as Gabriel jumped around the mat acting like a fool, now nearly shouting in his announcer voice. ‘Oh, my word, ladies and gentlemen! I _can’t. believe. my eyes!_ The rookie wins!’

During the match, the entirety of the wrestling team had drawn close to watch, and Dean found himself getting pats on his back and shoulders from about half the team as he walked out of the circle and grabbed Gabriel’s water bottle to take a long drink. Dean’s mat was the only one still on the floor, so he helped Gabriel and Billy fold it and stow it in a closet behind the bleachers with the rest of the mats before giving Gabriel back the foam earmuffs.

“Good job, Winchester.” Gabriel said, flashing him a grin. “I bet Coach will let you in for sure with that win under your belt.”

“Thanks. I had a good teacher.” Gabriel smiled and fanned his face like he was trying not to cry at the compliment.

“Hey, what are those people doing in the stands?”

Gabriel turned to where Dean indicated, shaking his head and shrugging. “They’re on their free period, you can do whatever you want when you’re not in class as long as you aren’t distracting.” The blonde boy gave Dean a slap on the shoulder and called out ‘see ya, Dean’ before heading to the shower room.

Dean followed Coach Singer back to his office to stow his mouthguard, then the two headed off to the indoor football field.

“This school is crazy.” Dean said when he saw the huge room, complete with turf and a half-sized track around the edge. Coach Singer interrupted Dean’s gawking and showed him to his starting position on the track. Dean waited patiently while Coach Singer moved to stand next to what would be Dean’s finish line. At the whistle he took off, sprinting as fast as he could, even imagining a wendigo on his heels to push him to run faster.

They did this several times. First with a 100 meter dash that took Dean halfway around the small track, then a 200, a 400, then they started over and Dean ran them all again, giving it all he had each time.

“Have you ever tried distance running?” Coach Singer asked as Dean leaned forward with his hands on his knees trying to catch his breath.

“How far?” Dean panted, looking sideways up at the coach.

Coach Singer shrugged and shook his head a little as he said; “Five miles?” His expression and tone made is seem like five miles was no big deal.

Dean let out a humorless laugh and straightened up with his hands on his hips. “Haha, no. I’d rather not, I’m a better sprinter. I bet my brother would like that, though.”

“Who’s your brother?”

“Sam Winchester, he’s in the eighth grade.”

“I’ll keep my eye out for him. But I think you’d be good at cross country, it’s more about pacing. I saw you whip out eight laps in the gym earlier, I’d like for you to try out. We hold open tryouts the first friday of February.”

“I’ll be there.” Dean said normally, finally having caught his breath.

“Good. One last thing, then. You look like a strong kid, have you ever thrown shot or disk?”

“I don’t even know what that is.”

In the end, Dean threw an impressive shot putt, but declined to throw the discus after standing around with it in his hands for a full minute trying to figure out the foot movements. “Y’know, maybe if I watched somebody else do it.”

Coach Singer smirked and muttered something under his breath. “Don’t worry about it, they’ll probably make you throw it at some point anyway.”

They walked back to Coach Singer’s office in silence. Dean took a shower with soap from a dispenser on the wall of the shower room and changed back into his clothes. “Do you want these back? Should I wash them first?” He asked, holding up the slightly sweaty gym clothes the coach had let him borrow.

“They’ll be yours, kid. You’ll need ‘em for training and track and field. And yes, _please_ wash them.” Coach Singer grinned at his own joke as he handed Dean a note. “Congratulations, Dean. First day and you’re already on Varsity Wrestling.”

Dean didn’t stop smiling the whole way back to the office to get his schedule.

 

“What’s HLTH-G, miss?” Dean asked, looking at the 1130 and 1200 blocks of his schedule. The woman, the same woman who gave Sam his schedule, looked at him from over her glasses.

“It’s Health. Not to be confused with Health Education.” She said quickly as Dean opened his mouth to point out he’d already taken health. “It’s required at least two years for all athletes. You’ll be in with the Gymnastics class, they need big, strong guys to spot the gymnasts and you fit the bill.”

“Uh, okay. But what will I be doing?”

“Normally health students just tape ankles and wrists, stop nosebleeds, and treat minor sports injuries. You’ll be doing all that and spotting.”

The look on Dean’s face clearly wasn’t encouraging.

“Meaning,” She continued, slightly impatient. “You’ll stand near the gymnastic students and make sure they don’t hit the ground if they fall. I’m sure the coach and other health students will explain everything.”

Dean made a noncommittal noise and excused himself to find his ten a.m. class, english.

 

Truthfully, Dean’s english teacher, Professor Metatron, probably wouldn’t have gotten along well with Dean anyway. Dean had very little love of reading aside from reading to Sam every night, but that ended years ago, as soon as the younger boy could read for himself. But barging in halfway through class seemed get under Metatron’s skin, Dean could sense the dislike emanating from the treacher every time he looked at Dean.

“You do realize this is a _sophomore_ english class, correct?” The professor asked, not bothering to keep his voice down as he looked over Dean’s schedule. A few giggles cropped up from the back of the room, but Dean did his best to ignore them.

“I don’t have any english credits, and I need at least three to graduate.”

“Summer school? Yeesh.” Mr. Metatron pulled a sympathetic face that somehow came across as sarcastic. “Well, everyone, we have a new student joining us.” The teacher handed back Dean’s schedule and they turned to face the class. “This is Dean Winchester.”

The students were completely silent. Dean felt his cheeks heat up as he looked at the dozens of bored faces, he gave them a half-smile before being directed to find a seat. The only empty desk was front and center. Wonderful.

Dean sat down and pulled out a pen and a spiral notebook, wishing he could be literally anywhere but sitting in an english classroom with a bunch of sophomores. Professor Metatron dropped a thick textbook and a paperback copy of **Of Mice and Men** on his desk and continued droning on about an assignment. Dean resigned himself to failing the first assignment, he’d missed the first half of the explanation and the professor was already erasing the board.

Eventually, the bell rang and the professor called out ‘Five minute break, guys.’ Dean rubbed his eyes with his fists, he didn’t like this teacher and had him again next period for a writing class. Dean was fiddling with his pen when he felt someone tap him on the shoulder.

Dean turned in his seat and clapped eyes on the guy sitting one seat back and to the left. He was short and pale, with chapped lips and dark, untidy hair that stood on end at the front and curled around his ears and the back of his neck. His eyes were the bluest blue Dean had ever seen in a person’s eyes.

“Hello,” He said in a surprisingly deep voice, much deeper than Dean’s. “I don’t think you got all of the assignment, do you want to copy my notes?”

“Sure, thank you.” Dean accepted the guy’s notebook and took out his flip phone to take a picture of the page. “I’m Dean.” He said as he handed the notebook back to it’s owner.

“Castiel. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” The dark haired boy leaned back in his seat, but his eyes remained fixed on Dean.

Dean gave him a small half-smile before turning in his seat to listen to Mr. Metatron start his lecture about grammar.

 

Dean barely found the home ec. class before the bell rang. He slid in the door as the teacher was taking roll and handed her his schedule since he wouldn’t be on her list. When he turned to face the class, he immediately spotted his little brother with this hand raised, waving at him with a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Hey Sammy!” Dean said, hushed but enthusiastic as he took the seat at the group table next to his brother.

“Hi, Dean. This is my new friend, Sam!” Dean looked at the blonde boy sitting next to his brother. The beanpole of a boy smiled and lifted his hand up to Dean in a wave.

“Oh, hell.” Dean groaned, feigning horror. “Two Sams? That’s not going to work.”

The small group quieted down as the teacher cleared her throat pointedly and continued with roll call.

Once the teacher gave the instructions (on making blueberry muffins from scratch) and set them loose with their recipes Dean leaned across his brother to shake the other Sam’s hand. “Dean Winchester, nice to meet you.”

“Samandriel Mills, the pleasure’s mine.” Dean couldn’t think of why that last name was familiar.

The three got to work, Dean letting the younger two do most of the work, preferring to keep the dishes clean and putting away used ingredients and let the Sams learn something. Dean already knew how to cook, he’d been cooking for Sam since he was seven or eight.

Once the muffins were in the oven (which was stowed in the side of their workstation, that was cool) and the timer set, the three boys leaned against their workstation and waited.

“Sam and I have had every class together so far, except for one. I’m in Spanish, he’s in French.” Dean’s little brother said as he wiped the workstation down with a wet rag.

“Seriously, this is going to get so confusing.” Dean said, turning to Samandriel. “Do you have any other nicknames?

The other Sam thought for a moment. “My mom sometimes calls me Alfie, you can call me that if you prefer.”

“Okay, good. Alfie. That’s better than Sam and Sam.”

The boys chatted easily about their day so far, Dean pleased to tell his brother that he made varsity wrestling, Sam saying how glad he was that he was put in Spanish since he was already fluent and sharing that he would be learning to play trumpet because ‘that’s the only instrument they on hand to loan him.’

“Also, Dean. I’m out of lunch money.” Sam said, fighting a smile.

Dean gaped at his brother just a bit but managed to keep his voice calm. “How in the hell, Sam. It’s not even lunchtime yet.”

Sam and Alfie both laughed at his reaction.

“I had to rent my trumpet from the school. They take sixty bucks and give it back when you turn it in.”

“As long as it’s in the same condition as it was when they lent it to you.” Alfie said helpfully.

Dean rolled his eyes; he’d have to find a place to hustle some cash before they even got to friday. He handed his brother a twenty, saying; “This is all I have for you.”

“The homework load at this school is going to be ridiculous.” Sam commented a few minutes later, as Dean pulled the muffin tin out of the oven. “Thirty minute classes is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard of.”

“It allows more time for extracurriculars.” Alfie said as he passed Sam and Dean some little cellophane bags to wrap the muffins in. “But yes, most of the actual work is done at home. It’s suppose to prepare us for college or something.”

“That’s nice in theory,” Dean said as he sealed a bag with a twist tie. “But how is anyone suppose to hold down a job and get all their school work done?”

Alfie shrugged, “Most of my brothers only work on the weekends, but the twins also work thursday and friday nights when it’s not football season.”

“How many brothers do you have, Sam?” Sam asked with a mouthful of muffin.

“Five older brothers. I’m the youngest.”

“That sounds _awesome_!” Sam exclaimed after slightly choking on his muffin and receiving two sharp smacks on the back from Dean. Dean smiled, cheered by the fact that Sammy would think four more Deans would be ‘awesome’.

 

Coach Turner was the gymnastics coach. He was cool, Dean thought. He wanted to be called Coach Rufus, and talked with his hands so much that Dean had to take small steps back to avoid getting accidentally smacked. He introduced Dean to a weightlifter named Gary, who showed Dean to the trainer’s dressing room where they changed into their gym clothes. Dean didn’t have any tennis shoes, Coach Singer had taken back the pair he’d lent Dean earlier, so he’d have to make do with work boots for a day.

Gary got their assignment from Coach Rufus while Dean waited around with the other trainers near where the gymnasts were stretching. He watched them as they wrapped the wrists and a few ankles of the gymnasts.

One of the trainers Dean had been watching invited him in for a tutorial, allowing him to ask questions and tug on the fabric to see how snug it was. Dean was so focused on learning how to wrap wrists that he didn’t notice the boy attached to the wrist he was tugging on was a boy he’d already met.

Bright blue eyes stared into Dean’s. Whatever apology Dean had planned on saying for messing with the kids’ wrists for two or three minutes straight died in his throat.

“Hello, Dean.” Said a deep voice.

“H-Hi, Castiel, right?”

Castiel nodded, a small smile playing on his lips as he maintained eye contact. Dean realized -too late- that he was still holding Castiel’s wrists in his hands and let the guy’s arms drop with a half-formed apology. Castiel wore a light blue onesie similar to the ones the wrestling team wore, and Dean was shocked to see muscles bulging in the arms and legs of the guy he’d assumed was scrawny just a few classes earlier.

“Oh, good, Winchester! You’ve already found our boy.” Gary said loudly from behind Castiel, making both of them jump. “Castiel, we’re ready when you are.”

Dean and Gary followed Castiel to a pair of rings hanging from straps and stood where Gary told him while Castiel chalked up his hands.

“Just make sure he doesn’t hit the ground too hard.” Gary was saying as he pointed out what area Dean was responsible for. “I’ll be right over there making sure he doesn’t fall off in that direction. And hey,” Gary said, leaning to the side to catch Dean’s eye as he stared wide-eyed at the rings, “if he does hit the ground, but you slow him down enough that he doesn’t get hurt, that’s a win, too.” Dean nodded and swallowed hard.

“Castiel knows that this is nerve wracking for us, he always starts slow with stuff he knows he won’t fall on. And if he’s going to try something new that’ll make him more likely to fall, he’ll tell us. Don’t sweat it too much.”

Dean nodded, thinking that his expressions must be giving away a lot today.

Good lord, he didn’t want to do this. He’d feel awful if he let the guy fall.

Dean watched as Castiel took his position under the rings, Gary put his hands on Castiel’s waist and helped him make the jump.

Dean’s eyes never left his gymnast, and he never let himself stand too still, not wanting to be caught unawares. He rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet with his eyes up and his knees bent, ready to charge forward under the guy if he slipped or missed grabbing either of the rings.

Castiel and Gary seemed to have a system, Dean noticed. Castiel would let out a yell just before the dismount, and Gary would move in, ready to help but aware that Castiel was about to hit the ground on purpose. Castiel did his routine several times, every time doing the same series of tricks and scowling when he would stumble on the landing. Dean was so focused on the dark-haired boy he nearly jumped out of his skin when somebody clapped him on the shoulder roughly.

“How we doing, Castiel?” Coach Rufus called out, grinning at Dean’s reaction with his hand still on his shoulder. Castiel pulled himself up so that his feet were directly above him and his arms outstretched below, holding him up. Dean could hardly believe Castiel had the strength to do that; he was still reeling, trying to remember if Castiel’s muscles had shown through his button-up shirt or not.

Castiel held the handstand-like position before yelling, swinging around and back up, and doing a double backflip onto the mat. Gary caught him as he screwed the landing and stumbled back, then he straightened with his feet together. Castiel took a few steps towards Dean and the coach, his hair even messier than it had been and his cheeks pink.

“It’s been a long break, coach.” He said breathlessly, shaking his head. “I don’t feel one hundred percent today.”

“Yea, I talked to your mom about that. Lack of sleep will do that to you, son, you need to turn off that phone.” Coach Rufus shook a finger at him. “Ease back into it, we have plenty of time before competition.”

“Yes, sir.” Castiel said with the slightest hint of a scowl on his lips, grabbing his water bottle off the stool where his duffle bag sat and taking a long drink.

Gary motioned Dean over to him. “We’re going to grab a drink, Castiel. Meet you at the parallel bars in two?” Castiel was still out of breath, he just nodded and gave them a thumbs up as they turned away.

“Holy living hell, dude. Castiel is _really_ good at that.” Dean said in a hushed voice that still came out a little too loud.

“Yea, he’s won just about every competition there is.” Gary said as he led the way to the water fountain. “You should see his room, there’s medals and trophies everywhere. I was there in October for the twin’s eighteenth.” Gary paused to take a drink. “It’s too bad he hasn’t been doing too hot lately, he has a shot at nationals this year, but they way Coach Rufus talks, I don’t know that he’ll make it past qualifying.”

“What do you mean? What’s wrong with him?” Dean asked with genuine concern as they started towards the parallel bars.

“I don’t know, man. I think he must be sick or something. Did you notice the bags under his eyes? And he’s been acting kind of _blah_ this year, always falling asleep at lunch and stuff. I don’t know, don’t mention it to him.”

Dean wouldn’t dream of it. But when they reached Castiel, Dean _did_ notice what Gary said about the bags under Castiel’s eyes.

The three repeated their procedure at the parallel bars. Castiel was more impressive at this routine, but managed to fall off on Gary’s side. Gary caught him awkwardly but solidly, turning him right side up and setting Castiel on his feet before going to retrieve the jump board so Castiel could get back on the six and a half foot high bars. Castiel started the routine over from the beginning, barely managing to catch the bar during an identical jump as the one he fell on the last go around. Before Dean knew it, Castiel yelled and did a sideways spinning flip towards Dean’s side of the mat. Dean was in place before Castiel’s feet hit the deck, his hands stretched out to assist, but he stuck the landing with his feet perfectly together and raised his arms above his head.

Castiel turned towards Dean, a small smile playing on his lips when he took in Dean’s expression. “What?” The dark haired boy asked, breathing deep after the exercise.

“Nothing, I’m just impressed.” Dean dropped his eyes as soon as the words left his mouth, missing Castiel’s reaction entirely.

“Okay.” Castiel said louder, turning his body so that it was clear he was speaking to both Dean and Gary. “I’m going to try something a little more difficult this time. Gary, it’ll probably be on your side again.”

“Got it, man.” Gary said cheerfully.

Castiel smiled as he chalked his hands again and let Gary help him jump up onto the bars. The routine went much the same as last time, Dean and Gary both on edge this time around. Dean saw the added trick, what looked like a tight double twisty thing on one side of the bars. It was close, so close that Gary threw himself on his knees with his arms outstretched just beside Castiel to catch him. But the guy held on and neatly finished his routine, once again yelling out right before jumping off the side all impressive like. He stuck the landing again. Dean was right beside him ready to catch him again.

“Alright, Castiel! Nice job over there!” Coach Rufus yelled from across the room.

Castiel turned and grabbed his water bottle again, taking a long drink before gasping for air again. “How much longer do I have you guys?”

Gary checked the time on his phone. “Ten minutes.”

“Do you mind if we do one more routine?”

Gary looked at Dean who immediately shrugged and nodded. “You’ve got us as long as you need, Castiel.”

Castiel grinned and led the two older boys to a balance beam that stood four feet off the ground. Castiel chalked his hands again, also rubbing the powder on his bare feet while Gary and Dean took their positions. Despite the bar coming up to Castiel’s upper chest, the dark headed boy didn’t need any assistance getting on it. Dean watched as Castiel stood, got his balance and raised his eyes to the air in front of him.

Castiel immediately dropped one foot forward, landing in a split before planting his hands on the bar and flipping lightly back to his feet. As Castiel pulled a backflip after a twisty flip after another backflip, Dean spotted a wide smile on his face that Dean only now noticed had been absent during all his other routines.

Castiel paused at one end of the bar, arms stretched out and calmly said “dismount.” Gary rushed to one end of the bar to an extra thick mat and Dean hurried to mimic his movement. Castiel took two running steps before doing something like a cartwheel that turned into a hell of a twisty flip that landed him square on the thick mat. Dean couldn’t help a breathy ‘wow’ that escaped him when Castiel stuck the landing, the short dark haired boy grinning ear to ear.

“Isn’t the balance beam for girls, Castiel?” One of the trainers called out as he walked to the dressing room. Some shithead walking with him laughed, the sound grating on Dean’s nerves.

Castiel’s smile immediately vanished without a trace, though otherwise he didn’t look too upset by the comment. But Dean couldn’t help himself.

Now, Dean had never been good at comebacks, and as per frickin’ usual, Dean stuttered out what should have been scathing.

“Isn’t--Isn’t rude comments for b-bitches, dude? Oh, wait.”

Dean waited for the jerks’ reaction, and it was kinda more mild than he was expecting. The guy blinked a couple times in quick succession and gave Dean a confused look like he didn’t know why in heaven Dean would say that to him.

Oh, so Castiel was an easy target for jerks with jerk comments, okay.

Dean turned back to Castiel and Gary, taking care not to look at Castiel’s face, where he knew bright blue eyes were boring into his own.

Gary looked amused and commented, “if only you hadn’t stuttered, Winchester.”

Castiel seemed to come back to himself after a few seconds; he dropped his face and started unwrapping his wrists. “Thank you guys, I appreciate you both. Have a good rest of your day.”

Dean and Gary uttered identical ‘you too’s’ and headed to the dressing room where, blessedly, the heckler and his jerk friend were not to be found.

Dean hauled ass back to baby; no way in hell he was eating cafeteria food today, he was too hungry.

 

Dean was late getting back from lunch, he sneakily ate chicken nuggets from the pocket of his jacket in geometry. He was assigned homework in geometry: twenty questions, due the next day.

Then he was assigned to translate a full chapter from a ‘young readers’ book as homework in spanish, due the next day

He sat next to Castiel in ethics class. The teacher spoke slowly in a monotone about -well, Dean wasn’t sure he was conscious for most of that class. The homework was to read the first two chapters of the textbook; they would have a quiz over them both the next day.

Dean had choir next; he had a hard time finding the choir room; it was tucked away into the very back corner of the school behind the auditorium. A large group of students were already on the risers with folders full of music when he walked in.

Dean didn’t see a teacher at first, and had to ask a student if the instructor would be back soon. Turns out the ‘student’ he was talking to was the teacher. Mr. Fitzgerald’s smile reached from ear to ear as he greeted Dean and shook his hand, but frowned when Dean told him he was scheduled for this class.

“Oh, sorry, Dean? Was it? Sorry Dean, this is our performing-level choir, you have to audition and be selected for this class.” The short and scrawny man frowned down at Dean’s schedule, looking very much like he wish he didn’t have to send Dean away.

“Oh, that’s alright.” Dean’s eyes were scanning the students on the risers. Luckily, they were all still chatting amongst themselves, none of them were paying any attention to him. “I’ll just take this back to the office lady, maybe I can get a free period.” Dean was hopeful, he was bone tired and didn’t have a single free period throughout the school day.

“Well, hang on, hang on, Dean. Let’s not be hasty.” The goofy-looking teacher smiled at him as he handed Dean his schedule back. “Let’s go ahead and let you audition! Maybe you’ll surprise us!” Dean hesitated. Honestly, he liked to sing, and he thought he had a decent voice. But he wasn’t some choir kid, he wasn’t even sure why the lady who made his schedule put him in this class.

“Oh, okay, then.” He tried not to sound nervous.

Mr. Fitzgerald called for silence from the students on the risers. Once it was quiet enough to hear a pin drop, the teacher turned to Dean and motioned for him to start.

“Go ahead, Dean! Sing us a song!”

Dean thought he felt his heart drop into his stomach before it started beating triple-time under his ribs. No way. _No_ _way_ he could just bust out a solo in front of a room of people he didn’t know. His face felt like it was on fire as he opened his mouth.

“In front of everyone?” His voice was barely a whisper. He couldn’t even glance at the students on the risers.

The teacher’s eyes widened; Dean supposed his face must already be a dark crimson, if the heat on his cheeks were anything to go by. The teacher laughed softly then walked across the room, opened a door, and beckoned Dean into a small practice room.

Dean’s hands were shaking as the teacher closed the door.

“Stage fright, huh?” The man said with a carefree chuckle. “No worries, you can audition in here.”

Dean was still trying to get his breathing back to a regular rhythm. “What do you want me to sing?”

Mr. Fitzgerald shrugged and sat down on a stool. “Whatever you want, buddy! This is _your_ audition, you can do things however you want. We even had some kids bring in guitars and boom boxes last year.”

Dean chewed his bottom lip for a moment before pulling out his cracked ipod touch and flipping through different playlists. He settled on a Night Ranger song and hit ‘play’. The notes that came out of the tiny speakers wavered, and he had to close his eyes and pretend there wasn’t somebody there who was listening to him.

He sang the entirety of ‘Sister Christian’ with his eyes firmly closed. He started off weak and quiet but by the second verse he’d found his groove and was playing air drums like he normally did. When the last verse ended, Dean kept his eyes down and paused the next song before he looked up at the teacher.

Mr. Fitzgerald’s eyebrows were raised and he had a smile hidden behind his hand. He giggled, actually _giggled_ , before speaking. “That was awesome, Dean! You’re in! Ha! I haven’t heard that kind of talent since I met Michael Mills!” He babbled on for a few more minutes while he led Dean back into the main choir room and supplied him with his own choir folder and sheet music.

“Dean.” Mr. Fitzgerald said quietly before the dirty-blonde could take his place on the risers. “Your voice is _great_. Don’t change it unless I _specifically_ tell you to, okay?”

Dean smiled and nodded, then turned to climb the steps. He didn’t notice Gabriel Mills until something hard hit him in the back of the head. Dean turned with his fingers rubbing through his hair, Gabriel was two rows behind him, grinning and waving. Dean smiled back and they whispered back and forth for a few seconds before Mr. Fitzgerald called for attention and the room started on some warm-up scales.

 

Dean truly wanted to skip the last two periods of the day, his track and field athletics period, but he had made a promise to his dad to set a good example for Sam, so back to the changing rooms Dean went.

Coach Singer caught Dean just as he was about to walk into the wrong dressing room. “That room’s for the tennis boys in the afternoons, Winchester. Track boys are down this hall.”

The coach handed Dean the same pair of running shoes Dean had worn that morning and motioned for him to follow. Dean went inside the dressing room he pointed out, this one was much bigger than the others he’d been in that day, and much more crowded. It seemed like at least half of the upperclassmen boys were crammed into one room, all fighting for lockers.

Dean silently changed clothes and followed the crowd into the mini football field/track room and joined the group as two guys that looked like they could be twins lead the class in stretches. After the group stretched and jogged five laps, Coach Rufus blew a whistle and started calling out names to separate them into groups.

Dean was the last one called, he joined a large group standing by the track. Coach Singer came over with a clipboard and a stopwatch followed by a short dark haired boy that Dean knew. Castiel didn’t look at Dean or the rest of the boys, instead intently listening to everything Coach Singer was saying.

“All right boys, - _can_ _it_ , _Johnson_ \- holiday break is over, and we’ve probably gained some weight from all of your momma’s cookies. So let’s set some new personal worsts to start off the new year. I need my 100 meter dashers up first.” The coach looked at a list on his clipboard. “Andrews and Baker, you’re up.” The runners took their place on the starting line while Coach Singer and Castiel moved to the finish line, talking briefly before readying matching stopwatches.

Coach blew the whistle and they were off. It was slow work getting through the twenty-something boys waiting for their turn to run only two at a time. But soon enough Dean took his position next to an upperclassman called West and moved his legs as fast as they could carry him. Dean tore ahead of his rival and passed the finish line a good fifteen feet ahead of him.

Dean noticed was that Coach Singer didn’t look at all surprised by Dean’s time, though Castiel obviously did, judging by the way he was looking at Dean with his eyebrows almost in his hair and his lips slightly parted. Castiel squinted his eyes at Dean and tilted his head ever so slightly.

Coach Singer barked out, “All right, ladies! I need my top four to run it again. The rest of you, be patient and shut up. Baker, Davis, Mills, and Winchester, you’re running again.”

Baker and Davis ran first. Dean stood near the starting position with his hands on his hips while he eyed his new competition. It was one of the boys who had lead the stretches, the dark haired one. He stood about two inches taller than Dean and seemed to have no fat on him anywhere, as opposed to Dean, who still had a little baby fat on him. Mills didn’t smile or look at Dean at all during the first couple’s race or while they readied themselves on the starting blocks.

At the whistle, Dean tore through the air, his opponent directly beside him. Dean imagined the boy to be one of the monsters he’d hunted and been chased by with his father. The thought pushed him harder, and he crossed the finish line a split second before the taller boy.

Mills changed tactics after the race, smiling at Dean and holding his hand out, squeezing like he was trying to break bones when Dean shook it. “Michael Mills. It’s a pleasure.” He didn’t sound like it was a pleasure.

“Dean Winchester. Pleasure’s all mine.” The difference between Dean and Michael Mills is that Dean knows how to be convincing when he lies.

Michael Mills beat Dean at the 200 meter Dash by a full second. His smug grin made Dean vow to get nice, new running shoes with better grip so he can wipe the floor with Michael Mills.

Dean was all up for some friendly competition, as long as he wins.

Michael didn’t try out for the 400 meter dash, but Coach Singer called Dean’s name so he did his best and came in first. After that, Coach Singer sent Dean to Coach Rufus to practice with the small group of shot putters.

Walking up to the group of five, Dean suddenly wasn’t sure about shot putt anymore. All of the other kids looked like the burliest of football players and competitive weight lifters. Dean was pretty damn sure he didn’t have a prayer in hell of beating a single one of them.

A tall and relatively slender blonde guy gave Dean a good-natured smack on the back when Dean reached the group and asked him his name. Dean was surprised to see it was the other of the two boys leading the class in stretches. He was the spitting image of Michael, only blonde.

“Lucifer Mills.” He said, shaking Dean’s hand in a much more relaxed way than Michael had.

“Hey, I think I met your little brother today. Samandriel? Or something like that?” Are you and Michael the twins he was telling me about?”

“Yes, and you’re right, Samandriel is the baby of the bunch. Have you thrown a shot before?”

“Only once this morning.”

Lucifer clapped his hands together and opened his arms wide, a grin on his face. “Let’s boogie then, Dean-O.”

Dean did okay at the shot, at least he wasn’t the worst, according to the clipboard Lucifer was writing the distances down on, he’d beat one other person.

 

Dean didn’t bother showering after track practice, he just splashed some water on his face at the sinks and got the hell out of the crowded locker room.

The snow had melted a bit in the warmth of the afternoon. Dean breathed in the still-cool air deeply as he made his way through the slush on the sidewalks and in the parking lot.

“Hey, Dean! Wait up!”

Dean turned to see his little brother slipping around in the melting snow trying to catch up. Dean stayed silent until Sam was within arm’s reach. “How was your first day, Sammy?” He asked, really starting to feel how thoroughly the day had worn on him.

“Not bad.” Sam answered with a heavy sigh. “I’m beat, though. I think I could sleep for a week. And I have two square miles of homework to do.”

“Me too, dude. What’s say we grab some take out and head back to the room? I’ll help you with your homework if you help me with my spanish work.”

“Deal.” Sam said, then; “Who’s that looking in the window of our car?”

Dean’s head snapped up; sure enough, a slightly stocky blonde boy had his hands cupped against the driver side window of the impala, his face in between them trying to see in.

“Can I help you?” Dean asked, short-tempered after the long school day.

The blonde boy straightened up quickly, then took one look at Dean and smiled hugely. “Dean-O? Is that you? Man, look at this beauty!” He patted the roof of the impala affectionately, the stick of a shiny sucker between his fingers. “Whoever owns her is a saint, the inside is _beautiful_.”

“Thanks, Gabriel.” Dean said, squeezing between the impala and a black car with yellow racing stripes parked beside her and unlocking the doors for him and Sam.

“No way!” Gabriel exclaimed, still grinning at Dean as he threw his backpack into the back seat. Gabriel whistled low, then leaned his back against the car with the racing stripes. “What do you think about this one? ‘89 Corvette. She was an empty shell when I found her at Coach Singer’s auto yard last summer, but I think I did good.”

Dean turned and gave Gabriel’s car a once-over. “Do you have a before picture?” Dean asked, grinning despite his foul mood.

“Sure do.” The blonde said, popping the sucker in his mouth as he pulled out a smartphone and thumbed to the correct picture.

“Wow.” Dean said, awed by the change. “How long did it take you to finish?”

“Started the second week of May, drove her to school for the first time the day before Halloween.”

“What kind of engine is in there?”

Dean and Gabriel talked cars for several minutes, both were so engrossed that neither noticed the addition to their group until he cleared his throat for the third time.

“Sorry, Sammy.” Dean said as Gabriel turned to give an annoyed look at the interruption. “Gabriel, this is my brother Sam. Sam, Gabriel is the guy who wrapped the principal’s office in wrapping paper, remember?”

“I didn’t do it, I swear!” Gabriel said in a way that made Dean think he definitely did it.

Gabriel shook Sam’s hand as the young boy asked “Are you Gabriel _Mills_?”

“I sure am, kiddo. What did you hear about me?” Gabriel popped the sucker back in his mouth, grinning as he leaned forward with his hands on his knees, leveling his eyes with Sam’s.

“That you glued a dozen people to the bleachers at the homecoming game and they were stuck there until two in the morning.” Sam’s excited smile was contagious, Dean found himself grinning while Gabriel pretended he had to think really hard to remember the incident Sam was talking about.

“Ah, you know what? Yeah. That was me.” Gabriel said, giving Sam a smile and a pat on the shoulder as he stood up.

“Who told you that, Sammy?” Dean asked, leaning against Gabriel’s car.

“Sam told me.” He said. “He’s in like, five of my classes.” Sam explained, looking up at Gabriel.

“Ah, baby bro is bragging again.” Gabriel clutched his heart with faux emotion as he turned his face to Dean. “I make him so proud.”

“Wait a minute, _Alfie_ is your little brother? _Michael_ _Mills_ is your _brother_?” Dean couldn’t believe two brothers could be so different. Gabriel was so over-the-top weird and Michael was such a _jerk_.

“Michael made an impression, I see.” Gabriel said, giving Dean a knowing look. “Hey!” He clapped his hands and drew finger-guns from imaginary holsters at his hips, one pointed at Dean and the other at Sam. “What’s say we grab some food and complain for a while?”

“Sammy?” Dean asked, “Want to put off homework for an extra hour?”

“Gladly.” Sam answered with obvious relief.

“We’re in. Who has the best burgers?”

“There’s a BigGerson’s nearby, they have ice cream.” Gabriel raised an eyebrow as if any place that sold ice cream was the most tempting place on Earth.

“Sounds good.” Dean said, with feeling.

“Groovy.” Gabriel said, moving his shoulders in a little dance move. The blonde looked past Dean’s shoulder and loudly shouted. “Hey, baby bro! Let’s go eat!”

Dean turned, expecting to see Alfie but instead seeing the brightest of blue eyes that had become so familiar to him over the course of a single day. Castiel grinned and called out ‘where are we going?’ as he made his way between the parked cars.

“Castiel _Mills_?” Dean asked as the dark haired boy reached them. Castiel gave Dean a bewildered look as he tried to comprehend Dean’s tone.

“That’s, uh, correct.” He sounded apprehensive. “I take it you’ve made the acquaintance of more of my brothers than just Gabriel here.”

“I think just about all of them.”

“We Mills boys are everywhere.” Gabriel joked, unlocking the passenger door of his corvette for Castiel.

 

Dean collapsed on the motel room bed and rubbed his face into the pillow, breathing deeply and reveling in the fact that he had a few minutes to be alone. Sam had insisted he needed to practice scales on his trumpet, but seeing as how it was already half past eight and they were in a motel, he couldn’t play in their room. Stubborn as can be, Sam marched out to the impala with his music book, trumpet, and an electric glow stick he could hang from the grab handles and had been out there for half an hour now.

He could hardly believe Sam’s motor was still running; Dean was just about wiped out from the long day. He’d take hunting any day, even with all the physical hazards, tight spaces, and sitting in the car for hours on end. The brothers had returned to the motel from dinner at a quarter past five, and spent the next two and a half hours on homework.

_That’s_ _ridiculous_ , Dean thought, too tired to be angry. _No one has that much time to devote to homework._

A small voice in the back of his head wondered, though; maybe the reason it took Dean so long was because he’d never really bothered with homework before. He’d always used the excuse of only being at a school for a few weeks at a time to slack off, and now that he was really trying, school was a lot more demanding than he’d imagined.

Dean reached in his back pocket and pulled out his wallet, propping himself up on his elbows to thumb through his remaining cash. Dean needed two new pairs of shoes, at least two of the dumb wrestling onesies for practice, a duffle bag, and a proper mouth guard. Dean wondered if he could get all that for one hundred bucks.

_I’ll have to find a sketchy bar and try to make some money tomorrow after school._ He groaned internally at the thought, it would undoubtedly take most of the evening to find a good pool hall and make a decent amount of cash off of unsuspecting drunks, leaving no time for homework.

Dean kicked off his boots and put his wallet on the bedside table, thinking back on the early dinner he and his brother had spent with Gabriel and Castiel. The Mills brothers (and Dean could still only _barely_ believe they were brothers) had only ordered a soda and a small ice cream, whereas Dean and Sam ordered two dinner baskets each. Dean’s second dinner now sat, half eaten, inside a paper take out bag on the small table at the front of the room where he and Sam had spent hours on homework.

During dinner he’d decided Gabriel was a cool guy; most siblings will crack jokes or tell embarrassing stories at their younger sibling’s expense. But Gabriel had treated Castiel just like anyone else. Dean had always done that for Sam (only in public; in private Sam was fair game for wayward comments and wise cracks) and he respected that about his new friend.

Okay, maybe ‘friend’ was too strong a word. Dean didn’t have any friends. He moved around too often to keep up with people, that wouldn’t end just because he’d be spending a few extra months in Sioux Falls.

Sam banged open the front door, haphazardly holding his trumpet and gear in his arms.

“How was practice, Lee Morgan?”

“I’m going to be last chair all semester.”

Dean shrugged, turning onto his back and flipping off the lamp on his side of the room. “There are worse things, dude.”


	2. The Trickster

**Wednesday, January 14th**

 

“Gabriel Mills!”  Gabriel shut his mouth and snapped his head to the front of the room, where the band director was standing with his arms crossed looking one hundred percent done with dealing with a huge classroom of students.  “Thank you for joining us, Gabriel!  Since you _obviously_ already know everything there is to know about the piece we’re learning, why don’t you play us a few measures?  You can play the solo starting at the _energico_.”

Gabriel bit his lip and fiddled with his trumpet’s valves as the second chair trumpet player shuffled the sheet music on their stand and pointed out the section their teacher was talking about.  Gabriel looked up and raised his trumpet to his lips while the teacher gave him the beat, and holy _shit_ these notes were going to have to be played fast.

It was their first day with the new music.  Gabriel really should have been paying attention while the director explained a few things about the piece, but he’d been having a one-sided whispered conversation with the pretty fourth-chair flute player instead.

Sight-reading wasn’t difficult for him, though.  He wasn’t first chair trumpet player for nothing, he’d been surpassing older students for first chair since his freshman year.  Gabriel played the solo without a hitch, he didn’t miss a note or a beat.  He even threw in some vibrato at the end, just to show off.

When Gabriel lowered his horn, the band director rolled his eyes and checked his watch.

“First chairs, you may go to your tutoring sessions.  Everyone else, please remain seated.”

His fellow trumpet players didn’t have a single word of praise for him, but he was used to it, they didn’t like him and most days they could barely contain themselves.  Still, Gabriel grinned at the other trumpet players as they rolled their eyes.  He stood and made his way out of the main band hall, following the first chair students of other instruments down a long hallway to the practice room where the eighth grade trumpet players would be waiting for their tutoring session.  

“Morning, fellas!”  Gabriel greeted his group of four with a grin as he slipped into the room and began setting up his music stand.  A chorus of ‘good morning, Gabriel’ echoed off the walls before Gabriel noticed there was an extra student in the room.  Sam Winchester smiled tentatively at him, a battered school trumpet in his hands.

“Hey-a, Sam!  I didn’t know you’d be in my class.”  Gabriel said with a smile, shifting his trumpet to his left and shaking Sam’s hand over the music stand.

Sam smiled and fidgeted a bit.  “I didn’t either until this morning, I-”  

“Gabriel, will you show Sam some magic?  He doesn’t believe us that you can do it.”  Louise interrupted, looking down her nose at Sam.

“I said I didn’t believe it was _real_ magic.”  Sam said quickly, not wanting to offend their tutor.

“You can’t eat them until after practice.”  Gabriel warned, leveling the younger students in a serious gaze.  “Sugar doesn’t mix with the valves on your instruments, _trust me_.”  Five heads bobbed up and down in eager agreement.

Gabriel sat his trumpet on an empty seat and pushed up his sleeves dramatically.  He faced the watching students and waved his hands through the air distractingly as five brightly-wrapped suckers appeared one after the other in between his fingers.  He handed one to each of the students, saying ‘anything for my favorite trumpet kids.’

 

“What’s the matter with you today?”  Gabriel asked from on top of Dean as his friend tapped out for the third time in a row.  A strained ‘get off my chest and I’ll tell you’ came from Dean as he lay face-down on the mat.  Gabriel moved and sat criss-cross beside his friend, both pulling their mouthguards out at the same time.

“I didn’t get in until almost two this morning.”  Dean said, scratching at the loose foam of his borrowed earmuffs and sighing heavily.

“What were _you_ doing?”  Gabriel asked, the implication thick in his tone.

“Out at Duke Tracy’s, making some money.”  Gabriel knew the pool hall over on seventh street that Dean was talking about.

“I didn’t peg you for the type to sell yourself, Dean.  You know, there are other ways to make money.”

“Shut your pie hole, Gabe.  I was betting at pool.”  Gabriel grinned at the nickname Dean had taken to calling him, no one had ever used a nickname for him before.

“How much did you make?”

Dean fidgeted with his earmuffs again before answering.  “Four hundred.”

“Holy f--!”

Suddenly Coach Singer was behind Gabriel, shouting ‘it must be nice to be as relaxed as the two of you!  Get off your asses and give me thirty!’

Gabriel wouldn’t let Dean quit until he got at least one win on the shorter boy, citing ‘loss makes the heart grow fonder’ as an excuse to put Dean into another hold.  

“So what do you do in your spare time, Gabe?”  Dean asked as they put the mats away.  Gabriel smirked and pointed at the gym ceiling where two dozen pairs of shoes were secured to the support beams and skylights.  “Pulling pranks, mostly.  I play my trumpet a lot, and I worked on my car for almost half a year and didn’t have time for much else.”

“Whose shoes are those?”  Dean asked, still looking at the ceiling.

“The boys soccer team.  Several of their players thought it would be funny to throw Castiel into a dumpster and hold the lid closed last September.  Each pair of those shoes can easily cost a hundred bucks.”  Gabriel glared at the shoes as if they offended him.

“What?  Why would they do that?”  Dean looked livid.  Gabriel liked that.

“He came out last September, I guess they thought that made him free game.  Michael and Lucifer got several of their football friends into it and there was just about all-out war in the school for a few weeks after the trash can incident.  But because Lucifer is the quarterback and Michael is the star receiver and captain of the football team, the whole thing kind of got swept under the rug.  That’s when I decided to,”  He gestured to the ceiling.  “Anyway, it made them mad, but by that point they knew better than to lay a finger on Castiel, and nobody could prove it was me.”  Gabriel shrugged.

“That’s still bullshit.”  Dean said.  Gabriel had to agree.

 

Gabriel hung out in the bleachers of the gymnastics gym during his free period before lunch, working on homework, doodling in his notebook, and occasionally watching Castiel do a routine.  He laid on his back on the bleachers and chuckled at Dean: he was so serious about being a spotter, constantly shifting his weight with his hands up at his waist as if Castiel would fall during a simple routine on the rings.

“Mr. Mills, may I ask what you’re doing?”  Said a familiar voice with a bit of an accent.  Gabriel sat up and smiled broadly at the principal.

“Working on homework, Mr. Crowley.”  He said innocently, holding up his doodle of a t-rex fighting the marshmallow puff guy from ghostbusters.  “What are you doing?”

Crowley squinted his eyes at Gabriel and raised an eyebrow in his traditional ‘I’m watching you’ look.  Gabriel grinned, thinking of the Christmas-wrapped office and returned the raised eyebrow as the principal walked away.

Gabriel laughed to himself as he laid back down on the bleachers.  He liked Crowley; despite all the grief they gave each other, he had really stuck up for Castiel through all the bullshit last September, and usually gave Gabriel a bit of slack when it came to his pranks.

After several more minutes of adding carnage into his battle royale doodle, he heard Dean calling his name.

“Hey, Gabe!  What are you doing for lunch?”

Gabriel sat up and grinned at his friend.  “I don’t know, what are we doing?”

 

Jose Luis’s Tacos were famous amongst the students of Helland High for their speedy service; average wait time for lines, ordering, and receiving the food was under three minutes.  Gabriel rode shotgun in Dean’s car on the ride over since it was snowing out and his corvette was currently without a heater.  The two chatted easily on the drive, Dean even asked him to go shopping with him after school to get wrestling supplies.

“What do you need?”  Gabriel asked.

“That’s the thing, I don’t even know what all to get.  I know I need some of those onesies-”

“It’s called a singlet.”  Gabriel interjected with a laugh.

“-some wrestling shoes, some track shoes, a new pair of earmuffs, and I can’t handle the mouthguard the school hands out.  I tried boiling it last night and it literally turned to mush.”

“Yea, those mouthguards don’t boil well.”  Gabriel said, making a face.  “But sure, I’ll go with, make sure you get the right things and everything.  I’m trainer for boys varsity basketball, though, and they have practice after school that I have to go to.”

Dean nodded as he parked the car.  “That’s fine, I have to take Sam back to the room before we go, anyway.”

 

“What do you do for fun?”  Gabriel asked while he filled his cup with soda, remembering that Dean had asked him the same question after wrestling that morning.

“Uh, I don’t know.  I normally don’t have a lot of time on my hands.”  Dean filled his cup with coffee, not bothering to add sugar or cream before leading the way to a table.  “I spend a lot of time helping my dad with his work.”

“What does he do?”

“He’s an exterminator.”

Gabriel gave Dean a pitying look.  “That sounds _fascinating_.”

“Don’t be rude.”  Dean said, getting up to collect their bags from the counter.  As Dean dumped his food out on the table, he asked, “What does your dad do?”

“He’s a writer, you probably haven’t heard of him, though.  He ghost writes lyrics for pop artists and he’s got a book series.”  Gabriel shoved half a taco in his mouth with a gratified ‘mmf,’ Jose Luis’s was his favorite place.

Dean chuckled while he asked, “What’s the book series?”

Gabriel rolled his eyes while he chewed his food, he didn’t bother swallowing before he replied.  “Supernatural.  It’s about some people who kill ghosts and werewolves for a living.  The books are really dumb, I could barely get through the first one, but he goes to fan conventions and comic cons a lot.”

It took Gabriel a few moments to realize Dean was gaping at him.

“What?”  He asked.

“Your dad is _Carver Edlund_?”  Dean sounded excited and a little disbelieving.  Gabriel drooped his shoulders and gave his friend an exasperated head shake.

“My dad is Chuck Mills, but his name was Chuck Shurley when he started the series.”  Gabriel watched in horror as his friend started fanboying, he didn’t know anyone under the age of thirty had even picked up a Supernatural book.

“Dude!  You gotta introduce me and Sammy to your dad!”  Dean demanded.

“You’re kidding.”  Gabriel said flatly, he couldn’t believe this.  Dean was _actually_ a fan of his father’s books.

“No, dude!  That’s the coolest thing ever!  I’ve been reading your dad’s books since I was a little kid, he’s like, really famous!  Is your dad a-.”  Dean dropped his voice down to a whisper.  “Is your dad a hunter?”

Gabriel gave his friend a weird look.  “No?  He’s not real into guns and stuff.  I don’t think the man has ever even been _camping_.”  

Dean just let out a ‘hm’ and immediately dropped it, instead he started talking about one of their wrestling teammates.  But he still had a small smirk on his face.

The two ate their lunch in silence for several minutes, they were just about finished when a sophomore boy from their school bumped into their table.  His hand knocked Dean’s coffee cup over and sent the hot liquid right into his lap.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.  Let me grab you some napkins.”  The kid apologized as Dean jumped out of his seat and fruitlessly tried to dry his pants with napkins.  Dean looked murderous, but waved the guy off and excused himself so he could dry off in the restroom.

Gabriel helped the guy mop up the mess, and watched him as he went to join his friends at a table across the room.  The group laughed and several of them looked back at Gabriel before handing the coffee-spiller a few bills.

 _What the hell?_ Gabriel could hardly believe people nearly his own age were still daring each other to do dumb shit for money, he’d have to teach these kids a little lesson about messing with Gabriel Mills or his friend.

Gabriel stood, shaking his head and pulling on his coat on the way to the door.  He thought knew what kind of car that guy drove, he could let a little air out of the tires.  Gabriel found the red jeep and tried the handle of the driver side door and very nearly letting out a whoop when it opened.  He popped the hood and got to work.

Gabriel got back to the table just as Dean exited the bathroom with still-wet pants.  “Why would someone make a few bucks off spilling coffee on someone?”

“What?”  Dean said angrily, his eyebrows furrowed and his lips pressed together.  “Seriously?”

Gabriel nodded as he cleared his side of the table.  “Are you still eating?  We need to head back now-ish.”

Dean shoved his leftovers in the pocket of his jacket with enough force to crush the taco shell and followed Gabriel to the door.  They kept their heads down as the wind threw snow into their faces while they crossed the parking lot.

Gabriel shut the passenger side door, quieting the cab of the impala from the blizzard raging over the town.  Dean didn’t move to start the engine.  Instead, he leaned forward over the steering wheel trying to see through the snow.  A small group of guys from their school that included the coffee-spiller were crossing the parking lot, heads ducked in the wind.

“I should kick his ass.”  Dean said with conviction.

“He’s got four of his friends with him.”  Gabriel pointed out.  Dean grunted and didn’t move to start the car, his hands still shoved in his jacket pockets.

“Just wait a sec.”  Gabriel said, shivering as he pulled the seat belt around himself.

The two friends watched as the coffee-spiller started his jeep.  The horn immediately sounded off and didn’t stop until the kid let off the breaks, then resumed again.  Dean looked incredulous as the guy experimented with the horn-brake as he crossed the parking lot.  Gabriel just barely managed to keep a straight face as his friend rounded on him.

“What did you do?”

Gabriel shrugged and he only barely managed to keep his voice sounding innocent.  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.  I didn’t do anything.”  Dean’s mouth hung open slightly as he stared unwaveringly at Gabriel.  “We need to get back to school, my mom will kill me if I’m late again.”

Dean smirked and shook his head, finally fishing the keys out of the pocket of his jeans and starting the engine.  The ride back to school was quiet except for Dean’s Metallica cassette.  Dean had to drive slow as the snow whipped against the windows, blocking their sight.  

 “So do you _ever_ get in trouble for all the pranks you pull?”  Dean asked as he pulled the impala into a parking spot and set the brake.

Gabriel grinned, zipping up his coat as he answered.  “I haven’t been caught in _years,_ it’s hard to get in trouble for something that no one saw you do.  Actually,”  He added thoughtfully, “I don’t even have a record, everyone got a clean slate between elementary school and high school.”  Gabriel looked at Dean and smiled.  “I’m not as bad as the teachers would have you believe, buddy.”

Dean grinned back.  “Yeah, you’re not half bad, Gabe.  I guess I’ll keep you around.”  Dean opened his door, letting the snow and the biting wind into the car.  The two kept their heads down as they walked up to the school together, only looking up when a car horn just refused to stop blaring.  Gabriel’s laughter mixed with Dean’s before the sound was swept away by the wind.

 

“Heya, Kali.”  Gabriel casually jumped onto and slid a few feet down the edge of the stage on his butt.  He was hip-to-hip with Kali Ma when he slid to a stop, and smoothly wrapped an arm around her and placed his hand on her hip.  “They announced the date of the Valentine’s Day Dance this morning, did you hear?”

Kali was gorgeous, especially when she was rolling her eyes and smirking at him.

“No, Gabriel, I was only the person _making_ _the announcements_ this morning.”

Gabriel knew it was Kali’s week to read announcements.  One could hardly miss the dark-haired beauty when she was broadcast to every screen in the school, he just liked to mess with her.

“I knew I recognised that girl!”  Kali rolled her eyes again, but the small smile on her dark red lips was worth making himself look like a fool.

“Kali?”  Gabriel waited until her brown eyes met his.  “Will you do me the honor of being my date?”

His question earned him an elbow to his ribs.  “Why would I want to go with you?  You never give me the time of day outside of this class.”

“That’s because you don’t approve of my hobbies.”  Gabriel said innocently as he slid off the stage and turned to face her.  He held both of her hands in his and let her knees dig into his stomach as he leaned in closer to her.  “Please, Kali, be my date.  I would be heartbroken if I had to go with anyone but you.”

She didn’t look convinced.

“Besides,”  Gabriel continued.  “You know you have my heart, Kali.  Can Baldur say the same?”  Baldur was the exchange student from Iceland that had taken a liking to Kali, along with several other ladies.

“I’ll think about it.”  Kali wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“Is that a ‘yes’?”  He asked hopefully.

“It’s an ‘I’ll think about it’ you pushy fool.”  Kali pushed on his shoulders and he held out his arms to help her gracefully slide off the stage.

Gabriel was beaming.  “Ah, Kali.”  He said, grabbing her hands once again before she could walk away.  “You know you’re the only one for me.”

“Whatever, Gabriel Mills, you’d better not be late picking me up _or_ dropping me off at home after the dance.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, darling.”  The beautiful girl rolled her eyes at him again and flashed him a smile, then pulled him along so they could sit together for the start of their theater class.

 

“Who coaches JV boys basketball?”  Dean demanded.  Gabriel looked up, surprised to see his friend still at the school a full half hour after classes had ended for the day.  Gabriel was sitting on the bleachers in the main gym, acting as a trainer but really working on homework while the boys varsity basketball team held their after school practice.  Dean stood in front of Gabriel, face a brilliant shade of red and his arms crossed over his chest.

“It’s, uh, Coach Singer.  Why?”  As soon as he heard a name, Dean turned and marched to the back hallway, where the locker rooms and coaches offices were.  Gabriel watched him go for a second before glancing around.  Sam Winchester stood where his brother had just been, looking nervous.

“What’s up, Sam?”  Gabriel asked, patting the spot on the bleachers next to him, but the younger Winchester didn’t move to take a seat.

“I made the JV basketball team.”  The younger boy replied seriously, eyes focused on the door his brother had disappeared through while he fussed with his jacket zipper.

“Congratulations, little dude!”  Gabriel exclaimed, giving Sam a pat on the back.  “That’s hard to do as an eighth grader, you must be really good.”

“Thanks.”  Sam gave him a sideways glance, “But Dean isn’t excited, he doesn’t want me on the team.”

Gabriel frowned and set aside his homework.  “Now that doesn’t sound like Dean, let’s go see what all the fuss is about.”  Gabriel stood and led Sam to Coach Singer’s office.

 

“Look, Dean,”  The coach was saying, the two of them taking up most of the narrow hallway.  “He’ll be fine, he-”

“You _just told me_ there are seniors on the JV team.  Actual, full-grown _adult men._ ”  Dean shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair, gripping it roughly before dropping his arms to his side.

“Sam is _ele-twelve,_ Coach, and he’s small for his age!  He doesn’t need to play with them!  Keep him on the eighth grade team, where he won’t get hurt, _please_!”

Coach Singer was shaking his head at Dean, a look of disbelief on his face.  “I’m really surprised at you, Dean.  I thought you’d be damn proud of Sam, he’s got the most talent of any boy I’ve seen at his age.”

“It’s not that- I am proud of him, really.  But I don’t want him to get hurt, he’s not even five feet tall, Coach!  And you’ve got guys over six foot out there.”

“None of our guys would h-.”

“I’m not worried about the guys on _our_ team,” Dean interrupted, exasperated.  “I’m worried about the _other_ teams.  They’ll see Sammy as an easy target!”

“Dean, Dean,”  Coach Singer soothed, placing a hand on Dean’s shoulder.  “No one is going to mess with him.  There’s a sacred rule in basketball: don’t pick on the little guy.  And _every single one_ of the boys on Sam’s team will watch his back.”  Dean didn’t look convinced; Gabriel could see him biting his bottom lip as he listened to the coach.

“Tell you what,”  Coach Singer continued, “The first JV practice game is tomorrow night.  Your brother doesn’t know the formations so probably won’t play, but you should come and see the team.  There’s a guy not much bigger than Sam, watch and see how he fares.”

With a slap to Dean’s shoulder, Coach Singer filed past Sam and Gabriel to leave, only pausing to ask Gabriel, “Shouldn’t you be in the gym, boy?”  

The Coach stepped out of the hallway, there was only half a second of silence before the younger Winchester exploded on his brother.

“Dean, I _want_ to play!  Why can’t you just be happy for me?”  Sam took a step forward, his hands balled into fists by his side.

Dean’s voice dropped to a whisper.  “Sam, you’re _eleven_ , you seriously could get hurt.”

“You should have thought about that before you _lied_ to get me into high school!  I’m playing, Dean.  You can’t stop me, Coach Singer won’t let you.”  Sam took several more steps towards his brother.

“Wait.”  Gabriel said with a nervous laugh, putting himself between the brothers.  Sam looked just about ready to throw down with Dean.  “Sam, you’re eleven?”  Sam looked up at him with big brown eyes but didn’t seem to know what to say.  He turned his eyes to Dean for help.

“Yeah.”  Dean said, the stress rolling off of him was palpable.  “I faked his records ‘cause he’s too smart to be in an elementary school.  I _didn’t_ do it so he could get his teeth busted out playing basketball with guys six and seven years older than him!”  His last sentence was practically yelled at the younger boy.

“Well, you should have thought of that earlier, _Dean_!”  Sam challenged.

“Okay, okay.”  Gabriel said loudly.  He had to physically hold Sam back from wailing on his brother.  “Say, guys, can’t we all just get along?  Sam, I’m damn proud of you for making JV.  Dean is proud of you too, he’s just acting like a jerk ‘cause he’s worried.”  Sam didn’t look convinced in the least, but he at least stopped trying to punch his brother.

Gabriel turned to his friend.  “Dean, I think Coach Singer’s right, I think Sam will be fine on the JV team, even if he is short.”  If looks could kill, Gabriel would have been struck down where he stood by the look Dean was giving him.  “But hey, don’t take my word for it, let’s go to the game tomorrow so we can make an informed opinion, yeah?”

Dean ran his hands through his hair, pulling roughly at the hair on the back of his head.  “I don’t like this, Sam.”

“I didn’t ask you your opinion, Dean.”  Came Sam’s retort, the younger Winchester turned and stormed out of the hall.

“If he gets hurt, Dad’s gonna kill me.”  Dean moaned after Sam had cleared out.

Gabriel made a sympathetic face and clapped Dean on the shoulder.  “You’ve got to let them grow up sometime, Dean-O.”

 

Gabriel’s little brother dropped onto the bleachers next to him just as practice ended.

“Hey.”  Gabriel greeted, barely glancing up from his math homework.

“Hello.”  Castiel mumbled.  He leaned back heavily, almost reclined on his backpack and the bleachers.  Gabriel glanced up again and saw he had his eyes closed.

“Sleep well last night?”  Gabriel asked sarcastically.

“Like a baby with colic.”  Castiel shifted slightly, his head rolled to one side and Gabriel could see the circles under his brother’s eyes were especially noticeable today.

“Hey, the twins are going to have to take you home today, I’m going to hang out with my friend.”  Gabriel put his homework into his math folder and stowed it in his backpack.  When he looked up, Castiel had an eyebrow raised at him.

“Dean Winchester again?”  He guessed, as if anyone else wanted to hang out with Gabriel.  Gabriel nodded and stood, trying to keep a stupid smile off his face.  This was the first time in _years_ that anyone had asked him to hang out outside of school.

“Yeah, so sit on Michael’s beamer and don’t take no for an answer.”

Castiel had his head leaned back against his backpack with his eyes closed again.  “I don’t think Michael would tell me no anyway.”

 

“ _So, Sam’s coming with us.  He needs some stuff for basketball.”_  Dean still sounded annoyed, but not as mad as he’d been before storming off after his brother.

Gabriel pressed his phone to his ear with his shoulder as he pushed the cart of basketballs into the storage closet.

“That’ll be good!”  His voice sounded falsely chipper, even in his own ears.  Gabriel was just glad the two brothers had seemingly stopped fighting.  “So are you all good for letting him play?”  A short silence followed his question before Dean spoke again.

“ _I guess so,”_ Gabriel heard Dean huff into the microphone.  “ _I just_ know _he’s going to get himself hurt doing this.  I’m not going to feel the least bit sorry for him when he’s missing a tooth for the rest of his life.”_

Gabriel chuckled.  “You know you’d feel bad for him.”  He grabbed his backpack and started for the parking lot.  “We’ll get him a mouth guard if it makes you feel better.  But basketball isn’t really _that_ rough of a sport.”  Gabriel pushed the bar and opened the door that lead from the athletics hallway into the parking lot.  “Where are you, anyway?  I’m free now.”

“ _I’m parked beside you, see you in a sec.”_  Gabriel heard his phone _click_ as Dean hung up.

“Goodbye to you too, dick.”  Gabriel muttered as he crossed the parking lot.

 

Dinner at the Mills house was never a quiet affair, but with six teenage boys all fighting over who gets the last dinner roll, there wasn’t much of a chance at quiet.  Gabriel’s mom and dad sat at each end, with Samandriel, Castiel, and Raphael on one side and Michael, Lucifer, and Gabriel on the other.  Though no one in the family had thought of each other as ‘step’-anything in several years, there was still a clear dividing line that ran diagonally across the table.  There were also usually two conversations running at once, one between Chuck and his sons, the other between Jody and her sons.

Gabriel sat between Lucifer and his mom, who was listening politely as he told her about the shopping trip with Sam and Dean Winchester.

“Did you get yourself a new singlet as well, honey?”  His mom asked, cutting up her chicken.

“Yeah.”  Gabriel replied, “it’s red and silver and the neckline plunges below my belly button.”  Lucifer snorted over a bite of mashed potatoes, Michael had to give him a few slaps on the back before turning back to his conversation with their father.

His mom shook her head and laughed.  “I’m sure the rest of the wrestling team will appreciate your exhibitionism, hon.”

“Maybe you should lose a few pounds before going around dressed like a Chippendale dancer.”  Lucifer muttered.  Gabriel whispered an almost unintelligible ‘fuck you’ to his brother.  It earned him an elbow to the ribs, he retaliated by kicking Lucifer in the ankle before their father loudly told them to knock it off.

It was a few minutes before the conversation lulled and Gabriel piped up with, “Dad, I finally met someone who's read your books.”

“Oh?”  Gabriel’s dad asked, looking pleased.  “Who is that?”

“My friend.  Dean Winchester.”

“That nerd would be a fanboy.”  Michael said, exchanging a glance with Lucifer.  The two of them dissolved into muffled laughter, but their dad leaned forward excitedly.  

“Dean’s your age, Gabriel?”  He asked.

Gabriel nodded.  “Yeah, he’s a junior.”

“Ha!”  Chuck exclaimed, making Samandriel jump.  “I told you kids my books weren’t for middle-aged women!”

“Sure thing, Dad.”  Lucifer said, avoiding Michael’s eye so he wouldn’t dissolve into laughter again.

Dinner was never complete until Castiel fell asleep at the table.  When Samandriel tried to nudge him awake, his head tipped forward and fell into his helping of mashed potatoes, making the entire table erupt into laughter.


	3. Enter Stage Left: Castiel Mills

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please re-read the last scene of ch 2 b/c it's been edited.
> 
> Also, new tags have been added.
> 
> Thanks!

**Tuesday, January 20th**

 

Castiel Mills was awake before his 7:00 am alarm went off.  His movements were slow as he lifted his head and flipped the switch to silence the annoying buzz.  He lied in bed for a few extra minutes, in no danger of falling asleep.

He hadn’t slept well that night, or any night for the past several months.  He’d lied awake until the wee hours of the morning, finally dozing off only to wake up a few hours later.  Castiel tried to remember the time he had last checked a clock before falling asleep, he thought it had been a few minutes before 2:30.  When he woke up the time had been 4:10, and even though he’d lied in bed and tried to keep a clear mind, he hadn’t been able to fall back asleep.  

 _So, less than two hours._ He sighed, mentally preparing himself for the day.   _It’s more than yesterday, at least._

Last September, seemingly out of nowhere, Castiel had developed a severe case of insomnia.  His pediatrician wouldn’t diagnose him, though, because it was ‘just a phase’ and ‘it’s not a chronic problem until we hit the one year mark’.  So he was suppose to be a zombie for a full year before medical intervention.  Which was just brilliant; hadn’t his doctor ever seen Fight Club?  

Castiel’s parents had tried to help, by limiting screen time to daylight hours, limiting caffeine and sugar, even sending him to talk to a ‘professional’ a couple of times.  It was beyond frustrating, especially when people said things like ‘well, maybe if you put down your cell phone, you’d be able to sleep’.  Like, thanks, Sherlock!  Maybe he would try that after letting his parents spend another hundred bucks to let him chat with a child shrink.

Castiel rubbed his eyes, sighed again, and got out of bed, not at all ready for another day.  

 

The car ride to school was quiet, except for the talk radio that Raphael insisted on listening to every morning.  Samandriel played on his phone in the backseat while Castiel rested his head on the passenger side window.  He watched the snow melt on the glass forlornly, wishing he wasn’t so tired and that he’d been able to fall asleep easier.

Mentally, Castiel wasn’t present for his first period computer science class.  If he could record this teacher’s lectures and play it on repeat, he might actually be able to fall asleep at night.  Castiel fiddled with his computer’s settings and watched the clock tick, thinking that his dad would be pissed if he knew the real reason why he was failing this class,and it wasn’t because the school’s computers mess up constantly.

Castiel had taken to sitting in the gym bleachers during his one-hour free period, a habit that he’d only begun the first thursday of the semester.  He didn’t have to ask himself why he was subjecting himself to the echoed sounds of guys fighting and piercing whistle blows during what could be his allotted nap time; he had found himself quite taken with his brother Gabriel’s new friend.  

In his opinion, Dean Winchester was everything a young man should be.  Even though there had only been a few scanty conversations between the two of them, Castiel perceived the taller boy to be a good-natured, animated young man with a good head on his shoulders.  From the first time Dean Winchester had entered his fifth period english class, he’d been struck by his handsome stature and easy smile.

As an added bonus, Castiel preferred the gym during his down time because of a small group of sophomore boys.  The group of friends enjoyed giving Castiel a hard time at every available opportunity, but they wouldn’t dare mess with him while he was in the same room as Gabriel.  Even if his brother didn’t know Castiel was around per sey, his presence gave Castiel some deeply-needed peace.  

Castiel sat at the bottom corner of the raised bleachers, the poster board signs on the handrail mostly concealing him while allowing Castiel to see Dean getting his butt handed to him by Gabriel on the farthest mat.  He gladly spent his free hour split between watching Dean wrestle and double-checking his math homework.

 

Castiel was slightly more awake in his math class, and managed to pay a bit more attention than he had in his first period computer class.  Despite his iffy level of attention, he was prepared with a correct answer when called on to answer a question and received a congratulatory nod from his professor.  He was one of the first ones out the door when the bell rang, and hurried to meet Charlie at the water fountain near the auditorium as they did every morning to say hello.

Charlie Bradbury was a freshman and almost exactly a year younger than Castiel.  She had moved to Sioux Falls, alone, at the beginning of last school year and had been Castiel’s best friend ever since.  Anyone could tell you she was brilliant; in her eighth grade year she got the computer club disbanded for hacking the school’s servers and giving everyone A’s for all of their semester exams.  Castiel was one of the few who could tell you that she was lovely; Charlie Bradbury had effortlessly earned the title of his best friend, had brought him out of his shell a bit and helped build his self-esteem.  She was a weird, quirky, short girl who was unapologetically her own woman.

Charlie met Castiel at the water fountain in full costume, she had been cast as a woodland fairy in the lower-level theater class’s production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream.  She showed off her pointed ears as Castiel took a seat next to her on the edge of the fountain.

“Good morning, Castiel!”  Charlie said with a smile as she handed him a chocolate-chip cookie the size of a softball.

“Morning, Charlie, what are the cookies for?”  He raised his voice so he could be heard over the splashing of the fountain.

“Tabletop club is selling them.  I took the liberty of buying the bunch I was suppose to sell, so I wouldn’t have to bug all my friends.”

Castiel laughed softly, “Thank you.  How’s the play coming?”  Castiel people-watched while he munched on his cookie.

“It’s okay, King Oberon is being a douche, but that’s pretty typical.  Are you going to come this Friday?”

“Of course, I wouldn’t miss it.”  

“Awesome!  I have a plan to make our performance out _shine_ anything the top-level theater class can pump out and you _have_ to be there.”  

Castiel laughed softly.  “What are you going to do?”

The redhead had a mischievous smile on her face that reminded him of Gabriel.  “You’ll have to wait and see.”  Charlie checked her watch, which looked oddly out of place with her middle-earth style clothing.  “Hey, you’d better hurry or you’ll be late.”  Castiel stood and, with a hasty goodbye to Charlie, took off for his english class.

 

A sudden swelling of muffled laughter passed through the classroom as Professor Metatron tripped over Dean Winchester’s outstretched legs, the gray-haired man grasped Dean’s desk as he righted himself and untangled his feet from Dean’s.  Castiel couldn’t help but grin as Dean’s head snapped up from where it had been resting on his arm and quickly sat up straight in his desk and pulled his legs in.  It was obvious that Dean hadn’t been paying attention and that he had been close to falling asleep before he’d gotten in the way of the teacher’s pacing.  

A dark blush crept up Dean’s cheeks as Mr. Metatron started in on him, his rude comments continuing until Dean’s entire face, along with his ears and the back of his neck, were a dark red.  Castiel watched as Dean seemed to shrink slightly in his seat, looking for all the world as if he wished he could disappear and never be seen again.

Castiel felt for Dean; he himself been the subject of the english teacher’s abuse many times, almost always for falling asleep in class.  Mr. Metatron had a tendency to get himself worked up, and Castiel could tell the teacher was just getting started in his rant.  

In a stroke of boldness that surprised even him, Castiel loudly cleared his throat to capture Mr. Metatron’s attention.  “Mr. Metatron, could we continue with the lecture instead of yelling at Dean, please?”  He gave the teacher a look that he hoped would make the man self-conscious about his temper tantrum.  

The teacher gave Castiel an incredulous look.  “Would you like to run that by me one more time, Castiel?”  Mr. Metatron’s voice sounded deadly.

Castiel forced himself to maintain eye contact with the teacher as the man slowly took a step towards his desk.  He suppressed the urge to swallow and said; “Yes, sir.  I was wondering if we could focus on the subject matter of the class instead of making everyone listen to you insult Dean.”  

It was Professor Metatron’s turn for an angry flush to creep up his face, but Castiel continued.  “I mean, this is the third time you’ve tripped over Dean’s legs this week, and it’s only Tuesday.  Maybe you should watch where you’re walking instead of blaming your student for having long legs.”  Mr. Metatron had been slowly walking forward during Castiel’s speech, and by the time he finished, he was towering above the boy.

Castiel was hyper-aware of Dean as he turned in his seat to look at him with his mouth hanging open.  Castiel wished he could see Dean’s expression, but he stubbornly refused to look away from Mr. Metatron’s eyes.   

Mr. Metatron placed his palms on Castiel’s desk and leaned forward so their noses were only a few inches apart.  When he spoke, his voice was soft but threatening.  “You know, the thing that amazes me about you Mills boys is your total arrogance and lack of respect despite the fact that your mother is never more than a mere five minutes away.  I think she’d be interested to hear about your cheeky comments, Castiel.  Should I give her a call?”

Castiel wet his lips nervously.  His mother would ground him for life if she heard about him sassing a teacher.  Luckily, an adrenaline rush from confronting Mr. Metatron helped him think quickly.  

“If you think she’d approve of you dishing out abuse, then by all means, give her a ring.  I’ll make a list while we wait.”  Castiel flipped to an empty page in his note book and began writing.  

“Let’s see.  Today, you called Dean a ‘long-legged neanderthal’, a ‘lackluster brute in a leather jacket’, an ‘artless, talentless half-wit.’”  He looked up at Mr. Metatron, grinning despite the adrenaline rush he was experiencing.  “I like that one, it brings out your eyes.  Oh, and let’s not forget that Dean Winchester is a ‘bow-legged-’”

“That’s enough, Castiel!”  Mr. Metatron shouted, slamming a hand on Castiel’s desk.  Castiel met the teachers eyes again and tried to keep his courage up despite his shaking hands.

“Mr. Winchester, switch seats with Megan, you’re banned from the front row.  And you,”  he said to Castiel, voice all but quivering with rage, “I’ll deal with you after class.”  The teacher turned and returned to his podium, straightened out his papers, and flawlessly continued the lecture as if nothing had happened.  

Dean and Megan quickly gathered their things, Castiel heard Dean whisper a soft ‘sorry’ to Megan as the two switched seats.  The move placed Dean in the seat directly to Castiel’s right, and Castiel watched the blonde boy adjust his notebook.  Dean kept his face down as his eyes darted around the room as if to check to see if anyone was staring at him.

Dean’s eyes met Castiel’s for only a moment before they both dropped their gaze.  Castiel licked his chapped lips again as his eyes wandered over the list of Mr. Metatron’s insults.  Despite the rushing noise in Castiel’s ears, his shaking hands, and feeling short of breath, he couldn’t help but notice the way Dean’s flushed skin made his freckles stand out.

 

When the bell rang, most of the students in Castiel’s english class stayed at their desks, preferring to turn in their seats and chat rather than wander the halls and risk being late.  Dean, however, was out of his seat and halfway to the door before the bell’s tone had finished sounding.  Castiel watched him leave, noting the blush that still colored the back of the boy’s neck a full ten minutes after Mr. Metatron had finished yelling at him.

Castiel walked slowly but with his shoulders squared to Mr. Metatron’s desk when the teacher called his name, holding his hands in tight fists by his side to keep them from shaking.  He ignored the man’s muttered insults and accepted his ten-hour detention slip without comment, then shoved the paper in his front pocket as he left the classroom and headed to the bathroom to collect himself.

Castiel glared at himself in the mirror as he wet a paper towel with cool water and pressed it to the back of his neck.  He pulled out his detention slip and scowled at the offensive paper.  Two week’s worth of detention in one fell swoop, he’d never even heard of such a long detention assignment.  The longest any of his brothers had received had been when Gabriel turned one of the tubas into a confetti cannon during his freshman year marching season and gotten five hours worth.  Castiel shook his head, resisting the urge to utter the swear that crossed his mind.

One of the bathroom stall doors opened with a bang, shaking Castiel from his thoughts.  Dean Winchester stumbled to the sinks, oblivious to Castiel’s presence as he turned on the cold tap and splashed water on his face, soaking his shirt collar and the front of his jeans.  Castiel could hear Dean’s ragged breathing as the taller boy straightened up with his hands covering his beet-red face.

“Are you okay?”  Castiel asked tentatively.  Though his voice had been soft, Dean jerked with surprise and looked at Castiel with a shocked expression.

“I- I’m fine.”  Dean said, his voice cracking slightly.  He cleared his throat as he turned back to the sink to splash some more water on his face.

“Are you sure?”  Castiel asked, taking a few steps toward his brother’s hyperventilating friend.  “‘Cause you look like you’re freaking out a bit.”

Dean let out a humorless laugh.  “A bit.”  He agreed, grabbing a handful of paper towels from the dispenser and pressing them against his face and neck.

Castiel hesitated, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Dean shook his head, his eyes avoiding Castiel as he threw away the paper towels with a little more force than necessary.  “No.”  

Dean started for the door before he stopped, half-turned and said, “Castiel?  Thanks.  For, you know, sticking up for me back there.”  Dean’s eyes stared studiously at his own feet, his lips pressed into a tight line.

“Of course, Dean.”

The taller boy nodded once before turning again for the door and all but running out of the bathroom.  Castiel felt a little confused as he tried to put a name to Dean’s behavior, then mentally shook himself and rushed back to class before he could give Mr. Metatron an excuse to add an hour or two to his detention assignment.

 

Castiel was grateful for his AP history class, it gave him a half-hour break away from Dean before they had to meet again for gymnastics.  Dean had barely said five sentences to Castiel during composition, which would have been fine, except they had been paired together for a two-person essay.  Castiel had typed out their outline on his laptop while Dean clasped his still-shaking hands together in his lap and stared blankly at the computer screen.  Castiel decided against asking Dean if and when they could get together to work on the essay, seeing as how the older boy was obviously not interested in conversation for the duration of class.

Once in gymnastics, Castiel kept his eyes down and let Gary wrap his wrists before joining Hanna as she stretched.  

“Hello, Castiel.”  Hanna said as he took his usual place on the mat beside her.

“Hello.”  His thoughts were still stuck somewhere between his ten hour detention and worrying over Dean.

Hanna was quiet for several moments before she said, “My birthday is on Friday.”

“Happy Birthday.”  His voice held no inflection to let Hanna know he really meant it.

“Hmm.”  Hanna stared at him hard while he grabbed his feet and touched his nose to his knees.  “My family is having my birthday dinner that evening and I was hoping you’d like to join us.”  Castiel took several deep breaths before straightening out of his stretch.  

He’d really like to be friends with Hanna, she was nice enough.  But she was constantly inviting him over to meet her parents and he had the strong suspicion that she didn’t want to just be his friend.  Before he’d come out last September, Hanna had been very open with her affections for Castiel.  They were never a couple per se, but Hanna hadn’t taken the news very well initially.  Hanna had been Castiel’s friend since grade school, and while she apologized for her behavior during the month of September, she hadn’t completely abandoned her show of affection for him.  

“Thank you for inviting me, but I’m afraid I already have plans for the entirety of Friday after school.”  Castiel looked into her eyes, trying to ignore the hurt expression that crossed her face.  “I hope you and your family have a wonderful time.”

Hanna murmured a soft ‘thanks’ before leaving him on the mat for her two spotters.  Castiel stretched his arms while his eyes swept the room for Dean.

He spotted him filling up a half-empty Dasani bottle at the water fountain and talking animatedly with Gary.  Castiel’s relief made his shoulders slump; it seemed that Dean had worked through whatever had been eating him in English.

The argument with Mr. Metatron made Castiel feel more awake and alert than he had since before the semester started.  He tried to forget about his detentions and focus on being glad that Dean was acting normal again, and it worked; his routine on the rings was one of the best he’d been able to put out in months.  He smiled broadly in Dean’s direction as he stuck the landing of his first go-round, Dean grinned good-naturedly back at him and gave him a thumbs up.

“This time I’m going to add some of the moves Coach Rufus wanted, okay?”  Castiel said to Gary and Dean.  Both his spotters gave him their okays so Castiel took his starting position and waited for Gary to help him make the jump.

His second set went flawlessly, as did his next two.  After the fourth round the three took their usual two minute break and met back at the parallel bars.

Castiel was absolutely giddy by the time he stuck the landing of the first set on the parallel bars, he hadn’t felt this good in a long time.  He turned to Dean with a smile that made his cheeks hurt and told the two spotters he was ready to add a few more moves into his routine.  His next four sets went off without a hitch, and because he had blasted through his usual number of routines, he had time for the balance beam.

Castiel joined in on Dean and Gary’s banter while he powdered his feet, but the three of them fell silent as he took his starting position beside the bar.  He loved the balance beam; even if some of the other gymnasts thought it was stupid, he’d always relished showing off his skills on it.  He liked the freedom it held, there was so much more he could do here than on the rings or parallel bars.  Castiel performed his old routine, his last official routine before he’d been forced to ‘retire’ from competing in the girl’s circuit, adding in extra flips and twists as he liked.  

Castiel got his balance, swung his arms wide and jumped into a back full twist.  He knew before his feet touched the beam that he was off.  Potentially, he could have landed somewhat gracefully, but one foot made contact with the beam and got caught, which threw him completely sideways.  

He didn’t have time to throw his arms out to catch himself, he only barely had time to close his eyes.  When his torso struck something solid, he heard Dean grunt in his ear and felt strong arms wrap around him.

“You okay?”  Dean asked breathlessly, carefully righting him and setting Castiel on his feet.

“Ouch, that was like hitting a brick wall, Dean.”  Castiel rubbed his ribs and took half a step back to look up at the dirty blonde.  Dean was standing with one hand on the bar for support and one hand on his chest with a pained look on his face.  “Are you okay?”

Dean flashed him a grin.  “Yea.  I think you knocked the wind out of me.”  He couldn’t seem to take a deep breath.  “Give me a sec and I’ll be ready for you to go again.”

“I think it’s almost time anyway, Dean.”  Gary said, ducking under the bar to check on his spotting partner.  “Next time, catch with your arms instead of your chest, it’ll be better for you _and_ for Castiel.”  Gary gave Dean a good-natured slap on the shoulder, then turned to Castiel and asked, “you okay with calling it a day, man?”

Castiel nodded with wide eyes, and Gary sent Dean away to ‘walk it off.’  Castiel watched Dean walk away with his arms over his head, and worried over the older boy as he struggled to breathe.

“Don’t feel bad, Castiel.”  Gary said loudly, clapping him on the shoulder and making Castiel jump.  He hadn’t noticed that Gary had been watching him.  “That first catch is always a learning experience.  I busted a blood vessel in my eye the first time I caught someone.  You little guys are a lot heavier than you look, and falling a lot faster than you’d think.”

A voice caught Castiel’s attention, and he saw Gabriel goading Dean from his place on the bleachers.  Castiel thought about getting onto his brother, but no.  Gabriel was Dean’s friend more than Castiel was.  If Gabriel wants to tease his friend, Castiel shouldn’t get in the way.  Besides, he could see Dean smiling and slyly giving Gabriel the finger.  Dean knew Gabriel was kidding, there’s no need for him to get all defensive.

 

Castiel crouched in the hallway, head down as he exchanged the books in his bag for some from his locker.  The sounds of students making their way to different classes or heading to lunch masked the sound of approaching footsteps.

“I made you lunch, Castiel.”

Castiel looked up at the figure towering over him, his eyebrows raising as he registered who it was.  Dean Winchester held up a small bag with three plastic take-out food containers nestled inside.  

“Oh.”  He said, taken aback.  “Th-thank you.”  Castiel quickly zipped up his backpack and closed his locker before falling into stride beside Dean.

“I’m sorry about earlier,”  Dean said, and Castiel wondered which ‘earlier’ he was referring to.  “I probably could have been more gentle.”  Dean gave him a sideways glance.

“Dean, you don’t have to apologize for that.”  Castiel gave him a stern look, though he felt some of the effect was lost because of the 7-inch height difference.  “I’m just grateful you caught me.”  Dean still didn’t look convinced, so Castiel elbowed the taller boy’s arm.  “Thank you for catching me, Dean.  You did good.”

A small smile turned up the corners of Dean’s lips as he nudged Castiel back.  “Thanks, Cas.”

Castiel tried to hide his surprise.  No one had ever given him a nickname before, unless he wanted to count the twins calling him ‘shorty,’ but he didn’t want to count that.  It was pleasing, and made Dean seem that much more charming.

“So, what’s with you making me lunch?”  He asked as the two of them dropped their backpacks at a small table in the student commons.

Dean looked a bit embarrassed.  “Well, it’s your little brother’s fault, really.  I have home ec with Sam and Alfie and we were making spaghetti and meatballs.”  Dean unpacked the lunch containers and sat one in front of Castiel.  “And your brother put _the entire package of spaghetti_ into the water.”  Dean rolled his eyes, a small smile on his face.  “So we made some extra meatballs and sauce, and I thought I’d make plates for you and Gabe.  Sam and Alfie each took two helpings and we _still_ threw away over half of the noodles.”  Castiel and Dean shared a laugh just as Gabriel dropped into the seat next to Dean.

“Sorry I’m late, guys.”  Gabriel pulled a helping of spaghetti towards him and started shoveling noodles in his mouth.  Castiel noticed that his cheeks were flushed and there was snow in his hair.

“Did you leave?”  Dean asked, turning away from Castiel.  “I told you I had food for you, Gabe.”

Gabriel shook his head, a mischievous grin on his face despite his mouth full of food.  “I was just admiring mom’s car.”

“What did you do?”  Castiel asked, catching Gabriel’s tone and narrowing his eyes at his brother.

“Nothing, nothing.”  Gabriel chanted, brushing snow out of his hair.  “I was just looking.  And hey,”  He said as Castiel was about to argue.  “I wasn’t the only one.  Quite a few people were out there, your friend Hanna was even out there taking pictures for the yearbook.”

“We’ll have to go look before lunch is over.”  Dean said, exchanging a grin with Gabriel.

There was several minutes of silence, which wasn’t at all uncomfortable, before Dean turned to Gabriel and said ‘I need you to be completely honest with me.’

Castiel sat up straight and leaned forward to listen.  Judging from Dean’s tone, whatever he was about to say was important to him.  Castiel grabbed at the chance to learn something new about his brother’s handsome friend.  Gabriel had a confused look on his face and hesitantly said, ‘okay, I’ll try my best.’

Dean measured Gabriel’s expression for a moment.  “Can you really do magic?”

Castiel rolled his eyes and sat back on his seat as Gabriel grinned mischievously and pulled a sucker from out of nowhere.  “Why, yes I can.  Lollypop?”

Dean accepted the candy and passed it over to Castiel.  “Take off your jacket.”  Dean ordered, making Gabriel wiggle his eyebrows at Dean and he did what he was told.  

“I love it when you get bossy, Dean.”  Gabriel smiled brightly at his friend.

“Okay, roll up your sleeves and do it again.”

Gabriel gave Castiel a smug look while he pushed his sleeves up, then turned to face Dean.  He turned his hands to show that there was nothing in them, then let his hands tumble loosely over themselves, another sucker appearing between his fingers when one hand passed behind the other.

Castiel could only see around a third of Dean’s face, but what he could see of his expression was priceless.

“Do it again.”  Dean commanded, watching closely as Gabriel brought up three more suckers in quick succession.  Dean accepted the sweets and once again placed them in front of Castiel, then grabbed Gabriel by the scruff of his shirt and started patting him down.

“Woah!  Uh, excuse me!  You’ll need to buy me a drink first, Dean-O.”  Gabriel said, weakly pushing Dean’s hands away as Dean started patting the shorter boy’s jeans.

“Where do you keep them?”  Dean asked, running his hands down Gabriel’s sides.  Castiel couldn’t help but glare at his brother while he laughed and wiggled away from Dean’s hands.  He wasn’t glaring because he was jealous.  He wasn’t.

“Stop.  That.  Tickles!”  Gabriel slapped at Dean’s arms several times before Dean gave up on the pat down.

“Do it again.”

Gabriel looked at him with somewhat of an offended expression.  “You just violated me and called me a cheat!   _And_ you’re not even eating the ones I already made for you!”

“Please, Gabe, just one more time?”  Castiel wanted to punch something over how sweetly Dean said it.  His sudden gravity towards violence surprised him, Castiel wasn’t one for punching things.

Gabriel softened a little at the use of Dean’s nickname for him.  “Okay, okay.”  He said with a smile.  “But you’d better not give it away.”  Gabriel held up a single hand, turned it twice to show Dean that he wasn’t holding anything, then reached behind the taller boy’s ear and pulled another sucker from out of nowhere.  Castiel’s eyes narrowed when he saw it, the latest sucker was different from the simple dum-dum’s Gabriel usually used.  This one was the kind you’d see in the window of a candy store, a tight-wrapped spiral of bright blues and pinks roughly the size of a chicken egg.

“There you go, Buttercup.”  Gabriel said, his voice like honey as he looked Dean in the eyes and handed him the sucker.  Castiel looked quickly from Dean to Gabriel and back.  Since when did Gabriel call _anybody_ a buttercup?

Dean was quiet for several minutes, staring intently at the magic sucker while the three of them finished eating.

 

Castiel stood close to Dean in the swirling snow, the two kept their hands deep in the pockets of their coats as they admired Castiel’s mom’s patrol car.  Someone, and that someone was insistent it wasn’t him, had built a pig out of snow that completely engulfed the car.  The snow had been dyed pink all over, with dark spots for eyes and nostrils and deep red where the tongue was sticking out.  A crowd had gathered, and members of the yearbook club were currently snapping photos of Castiel’s smiling mom doing a double thumbs-up beside her car.  Castiel thought it was a little suspicious that Gabriel was posing next to their mom, considering how he had nothing to do with the snow sculpture.

“Cas, how does he do it?”  Dean said, leaning close so the people nearby wouldn’t hear.

Castiel looked up at Dean, his green eyes were still fixed on the snow pig.  “How does who do what?”  He asked, shifting closer to the taller boy.

“Gabe.  How does he do that magic trick?”  Dean’s eyes met his, and Castiel felt a grin spread across his face that had nothing to do with the topic of conversation.

“Dean, what kind of brother would I be if I gave away Gabriel’s secrets?  Frankly, I’m offended you think so little of me.”  Dean gave him a surprised look, then smiled and looked back to the car.  Castiel laughed as his mom grabbed a handful of snow and shoved it into Gabriel’s face; it seemed she knew who was responsible for the snow pig as well.

 

Castiel said goodbye to Dean and his brother in the commons and made his way to the second floor for his AP chemistry class.  He had to stop by his locker to grab his chemistry book and when he straightened up, a sophomore boy he knew all too well smacked the textbook out of his hands and to the floor.

Castiel’s breath came out in an angry huff as he glared at Scott, the taller boy stood in Castiel’s personal space with his head cocked to the side and an arrogant smile on his face.  Standing close behind him were two of his friends, Nick and Tommy.  

“What’s up, fag?”  Scott asked, shoving Castiel hard in the chest and sending him crashing into the lockers.  “I haven’t seen you outside of class in a while,”  Scott took another step closer to Castiel.  “It almost seems like you’re _avoiding_ me.”  Scott’s nose was nearly touching Castiel’s, but he was unable to back up any more, on account of the lockers he was pressed up against.  “You wouldn’t be avoiding me, would you Castiel?”

“N-No, Scott.”  Castiel said, his cheeks burning as he bit his bottom lip.  Why could he be brave when it came to teachers, but couldn’t find the courage to even look Scott or his friends in the eye?

“Oh, good.”  Scott breathed.  He was standing so close to Castiel that their chests were almost touching.  Scott straightened Castiel’s sweater-vest, brushed off his shoulders and rested his hands there to whisper in Castiel’s ear.  “I wouldn’t want to think you were getting tired of me, faggot.  I’ll see you in ethics class.”  Scott pushed Castiel to the side, his foot catching Castiel’s legs and sending the smaller boy sprawling on the floor.  Several people laughed, and Castiel felt his face flush even warmer when he realized it wasn’t just his three bullies laughing at him.

Tommy kicked Castiel’s textbook across the hall as the three boys left.  Castiel’s eyes burned as he hurried to pick up his book and fled from the countless pairs of apathetic eyes that had seen everything and done nothing to stop it.

Castiel nearly ran into Charlie in his rush to class; her eyes seemed to look right through him when he insisted that nothing was wrong.

“It’s those stupid bitches again, isn’t it?”  She said angrily, brushing the dirt off of Castiel’s shirt and vest.  “You need to punch them in the face, Castiel!”

“The last time I tried something like that, Matthew got his older brother and half the soccer team to lock me in a dumpster for half an hour.”  Castiel pointed out as he tried to slow his breathing, he passed a hand over his face and noticed his hands were shaking.  “It’s fine, I just have to be more careful.”  

Castiel had worked out routes to each of his classes that avoided Scott and all four of his friends.  The only reason he’d run into them today was because Dean had popped up at his locker before lunch and made him forget his chemistry book.

“You shouldn’t have to be careful!”  Charlie nearly shrieked, making a passing group of seniors stare.  “You need to tell your mom.”

“Charlie.”

“She would put a stop to it-.”

“Charlie, I-.”

“Castiel!”  Charlie grabbed his forearms in a tight grip and made him look her in the eyes.  “You shouldn’t have to put up with this.”

“There’s nothing for it right now.”  Castiel gave his friend a one-armed hug.  “I’ll see you later.”

Charlie didn’t reply, instead she wrapped both her arms around Castiel’s shoulders and pulled him into a proper hug, squeezing him tightly before saying goodbye.

 

Castiel tried not to think about Scott or his friends in chemistry, but when it was time to change classes, he found himself dragging his feet to ethics.  He thanked his lucky stars that Dean was already sitting in the desk beside his own when he got to class, but that didn’t stop Scott from sticking out a foot to trip him as Castiel passed.  Castiel caught himself on Scott’s desk, and he heard a whispered ‘sup, fag?’ before he could regain his footing and hurry to collapse in his chair.

Dean didn’t seem to notice Scott or that he was giving Castiel a hard time.  When he leaned forward to talk, it was about their essay for Mr. Metatron.  “When do you want to work on it?”  He asked, his green eyes bright.

“Wednesday and Friday are good for me.”  He replied, rubbing a hand across his face before turning to face Dean.  “We can go to the student resource center on the second floor, they’re open until five in the evening.”

“Okay,”  Dean grinned easily, “we’ll try to get it done tomorrow and we’ll finish on Friday if we need to.”

Castiel tried to return Dean’s carefree smile.  “Sounds great, Dean.”

 

The two thirty choir class was the only class that all six of the Mills boys attended together.  Castiel and Samandriel had both been automatically placed in the top-level choir class when they reached high school, they had their older brothers to thank for the automatic top spots, though it wasn’t completely undeserved.  Castiel and his brothers made up half of the boys choir, and a third of the full choir.  Their music teacher, Mr. Fitzgerald, or Garth, as he preferred to be called, wouldn’t dream of separating the family group, and placed the brothers on the top row together despite their difference in range.  Michael, Lucifer, and Gabriel were tenors, Castiel was a baritone, Raphael was a bass, and Samandriel was the choir’s only male alto.

The only problem with having all six in a group was that it could be difficult to get them to focus at the start of class.  Gabriel was sneaking Michael a sucker, Lucifer was nudging Samandriel into the soprano girls, the youngest brother’s face was bright red as he apologized over and over, and Raphael was doing his best to distance himself from his siblings when Castiel took his spot on the riser next to Michael.

“Hey, shorty.”  Michael said quietly, wrapping an arm around Castiel’s shoulders and bringing his wet lollypop dangerously close to Castiel’s cheek.

“Hi, jerkface.”  Castiel replied with a grin, tilting his head away from the sucker that seemed to be closing in on his face.  Castiel pushed Michael’s hand away, his brother laughed and gave him a pat on the shoulder before Garth started the first warm up on the piano.

Dean Winchester stood on the second-to-front row, two rows below Castiel and three to his left.  Castiel wished he was closer to Dean, he had overheard Mr. Garth talking about how unique of a voice Dean had and he really wanted to find out for himself what Mr. Garth had been going on about.  

Castiel couldn’t help but watching Dean during choir.  Normally, Dean’s personality oscillated between extreme stoicism and spirited chattiness, neither of which told Castiel very much about the taller boy.  Castiel felt Dean’s body language was more honest while the blonde was singing.  He could watch Dean sing all day and not get over how endearing every little tilt of his shoulders or bob of his head was.  Dean would bend his knees at certain times as if it helped him get the notes out, it made Castiel smile to see Dean getting into the music so completely.  All-in-all, Dean was one of the most expressive singers in the choir room and Castiel just _loved_ it.  It was one of the main reasons Castiel was developing a crush on the older boy.

Castiel knew the class would be auditioning for solos during their after-school practice that day, he hoped that Mr. Garth would make Dean try out.  Unlike class tryouts, solo auditions were performed in front of the entire class, no exceptions have ever been made.  If you can’t sing a solo in front of the class, you won’t be able to sing a solo in front of an audience.  Castiel had been robbed of the opportunity to hear Dean sing alone last week during his class audition when Mr. Garth stowed Dean into a practice room.  Castiel would just have to wait until after school to listen to Dean sing, because there was no way he could pick out one voice out of the eighteen other voices in the room.

 

Michael and Lucifer walked with Castiel to the gym.  It never ceased to amaze Castiel how many people would call out to his brothers in the hallways just to say hello.  The three couldn’t really even keep up a conversation because of all of the students who wanted a moment of the Mills twins’ time.

 _I guess that’s just popularity, everyone wants to say they’re friends with the Mills twins._  Castiel wasn’t bitter, the twins had always been popular, since before Castiel’s mom had married the twin’s dad.

Castiel had his own reasons for basically gluing himself in between his older brothers.  In order to reach the trainer’s locker room, he had to pass by the boys varsity soccer locker room.  After what happened last September, Castiel flat-out begged the twins to walk him to his health trainers class every day.  They had been good sports about it, and hadn’t missed a single day as his escorts since Castiel had made his request.

Even now, though, going on four months later and sandwiched between two people who would never let another soccer jerk so much as _glance_ at him the wrong way, Castiel kept his head down when they passed the locker room door.  On days when soccer guys were passing them in the hallway, Castiel took comfort when one of the twins would put an arm around his shoulders.  Today they passed Scott’s older brother, David.

David was the one who got the soccer team involved in his little brother’s obsession with picking on Castiel.  Michael had broken David’s nose and cracked one of his teeth in the parking lot after the twins dragged the soccer player off the lid of the dumpster Castiel was in.  Castiel’s relationship with Michael had taken a dramatic turn that day; where they had had a cool regard for each other before, Castiel and Michael were now thick as thieves.

Castiel kept his eyes on the floor in front of him as David passed.  Castiel didn’t have to look at either of his brothers to know they were both glaring at David as they passed.

“Keep your head up, shorty.”  Lucifer said, elbowing him gently in the ribs.

Michael’s arm was still slung over his shoulders, he gave the younger boy a shake.  “Lucifer’s right, Castiel.  Don’t let them see that you’re afraid.”

Castiel mumbled an ‘okay’ and tried to keep his chin up as his brothers walked him right to the door to the trainer’s locker room.

Castiel liked off-season track and field; because he was a trainer, he got to change into gym clothes and work out in the weight room with everybody else.  There was always an odd man out, and Castiel was always partnered with whoever it was.  Today, he happened to be partnered with Dean Winchester.  Castiel was all grins when he took his place next to Dean at the bench press.

“You’re not going to let this fall on me, right, Cas?”  Dean asked as they loaded forty pounds onto each side of the bar.  Dean sounded nervous, like he was really worried Castiel wouldn’t be able to help lift the bar.

Castiel couldn’t help rolling his eyes at the tall blonde.  “I spot for Michael and Lucifer all the time and haven’t had any problems.  I can go first if you’re _scared._ ”  He said the last bit with a cheeky grin, teasing Dean just a bit and relishing in the surprised smile on his face.

“No, no, if you’re confident, then..”  He trailed off as he straddled the bench and laid back.  Castiel and Dean slowly worked their way around the weight room, both quieter and more focused than most of the other athletes.  Forty minutes later, with their arms, legs, and abs thrumming with a pleasant burn, Dean held the door open for Castiel and they exited into the cool January air.

Castiel shivered as he walked beside Dean back to the school.  As the silence lengthened and started leaning toward awkward, Castiel searched for a topic of conversation to bring up to Dean.

“So, Dean-”  Castiel began his question at the same time Dean had started saying something to him.  They both laughed and Castiel said ‘go ahead.’

“No, you go first, Cas.”  Dean insisted with a small smile.

“Okay.  Are you going to try out for any solos in choir today?”  Castiel wrapped his arms around his torso as a particularly strong gust of wind blew past them.

Dean frowned before answering.  “I didn’t know the tryouts were today, actually.”

“Oh.”  Castiel said lamely, he chewed on his bottom lip for a moment then brightly said  ‘You should try out anyway.’  Dean’s green eyes flashed to Castiel’s face for a moment before dropping back to look at his own feet.

“Yeah, I don’t know.  Are you going to try out for a solo?”

“I am, there’s a baritone solo in ‘Let it be’ that I’ll be singing for.”  They’d reached the back door to the school, Castiel rushed inside as Dean held the door for him.  “Thanks.  You should really try out, though.  There’s quite a few tenor solos.”

Dean didn’t look convinced, and wasn’t meeting Castiel’s eyes.  “Uh, yeah.  I’ll think about it.  See ya in a few.”  Dean ducked into the boys track dressing room without another word.

 _That went well_.  Castiel thought sarcastically as he walked to the trainer’s locker room to shower and change out of his sweaty athletic shorts and tee.

 

“Does anyone _else_ want to audition for a solo?”  Garth asked, eyes avoiding one particular section of the risers.  “ _Anyone_?”  He asked, drawing out the word.

Castiel tilted his head forward so he could see around Michael to look at Dean.  The dirty blonde had his eyes set firmly on the wall behind the choir teacher.  Castiel let out an annoyed huff as he realized that no, he wouldn’t be hearing Dean’s singing voice today.

“All right then, guys and gals.”  The teacher continued in a slightly subdued tone.  “Thank you to everyone who auditioned, and thank you to everyone who did not audition for waiting patiently.  I’ll see you all tomorrow with the solo assignments.”

There was a few moments of chaos as the students gathered their belongings and started for the door.  Castiel grabbed his backpack and looked around for Dean, spotting him just as he was walking out the door, already deep in conversation with Gabriel.

It really sucked that Dean was a grade ahead of Castiel, it must make Gabriel seem like the obvious choice of Mills brother to be friends with, instead of Castiel.  In fact, it must place the title of ‘friend’s little brother’ on Castiel.

Castiel wasn’t good at crushes.  He’d never had a boyfriend or even a reciprocated crush before, and he had no idea what kind of feedback would be considered a ‘good sign’ that a person liked him.

The dark haired boy sighed heavily as he followed the twins out of the choir room.  He normally got a ride home from Gabriel, but he had wrestling practice to go to and Castiel didn’t think he could bear to be the odd man out in another conversation between himself, Gabriel, and Dean.

 

“You’re not riding with us, shorty.”  Lucifer said a few minutes later as Castiel opened the back door of the twin’s beamer.

“Why not?”  Castiel asked, sounding very much like a whiny little brother without meaning to.

“We’ve got plans.”  Lucifer said, shooting a look at Michael as if daring his twin to give in and let Castiel go with them.  “And you’re not invited.  If you hurry, you can catch Raphael before he takes off.”

“But he always parks in the back lot, at the _far end of the school_.  There’s no way I can catch him.”

“Gabriel’s still here, and it’s not like you never walk home.”  Lucifer said, and the twins slammed the doors of the car.

Castiel gestured angrily at the snow, he didn’t want to walk home in this weather, but he might as well have been arguing with a brick wall for all the attention the twins paid him.  Or arguing with the retreating tail lights of an old beamer.

The dark-haired boy grumbled as he pulled out his phone, taking a glove off with his teeth to send a message to his younger brother.

 

**To: Samandriel Mills**

**Message:** Hey have you and Raphael left school yet?

 

Castiel hurried towards the back parking lot just in case.  He didn’t get far before his phone buzzed in his hand.

 

**From: Samandriel Mills**

**Message:** Ya we just left, y?

 

Castiel rolled his eyes.  He just wanted to go home and take a week-long nap.

 

**To: Samandriel Mills**

**Message:** Nothing, I’ll get a ride from Gabriel.

 

 

As predicted, Castiel was the odd man out while hanging out with his brother and Dean.  Their conversation was thankfully short, but Castiel couldn’t help but notice the ease at which their conversation flowed.  

 _Why is every conversation between Dean and I so awkward?_  He wondered, looking up at the two older boys as they loitered in the athletics hallway after wrestling practice.

“What do you think, Cas?”  Dean asked, his eyes on Castiel suddenly snapping the younger boy away from his thoughts.

“I- What?”  He couldn’t help his blank look.

“Of the movie-?”  Dean started, but Gabriel interrupted him.

“Ignore him, he dozed off again.”  Castiel felt his cheeks blush and he flashed his brother a scathing look that the jerk didn’t see.  

“See you tomorrow, man.”  Gabriel said, waving as the taller boy turned away.  Castiel refused to watch Dean’s retreating form as he walked away from them.

 

“Castiel!”  His mother said loudly, making him jump.

“Yes?”  He tried not to look at the other faces at the dinner table, knowing they were all filled with either pity or mirth at his expense.

“I asked you three times how solo tryouts in choir went.”  She said softly, pushing his hair off his forehead.

“It was fine.”  Castiel said, rubbing his eyes.  “We find out tomorrow who got solos.”

His mother always gave him pitying looks when he looked particularly tired.

“Maybe you should go to bed right after dinner, honey.”  She said softly, and Castiel’s father seconded that.

 

Castiel’s parents took his phone and laptop away before letting him head upstairs.  One of the child shrinks Castiel had gone to had, quite incorrectly, informed his parents that the reason he couldn’t sleep was because he had ADHD and couldn’t stop himself from checking his phone every few minutes.  He had to have his homework done before dinner, because every night, without fail, he was a zombie after eating his dad’s amazing cooking.

Going to bed at 7pm wasn’t all bad.  He didn’t have to fight any brothers for the bathroom, so he was able to take a hot bath and sit in the tub for a few blessedly relaxing minutes.  It was winter, so the sun had already set and wouldn’t keep him awake.  Castiel paused before getting into bed; the view of their backyard from Castiel’s second-story bay window looked like a christmas card.  

A soft knocking on his door drew his attention, and he thanked his mom for bringing him a cup of warm sleepytime tea.  He sat on the padded bench of his window looking out into the night until his drink was gone and he felt a pleasant warming sensation in his limbs from the tea.

Castiel sunk gratefully between the sheets, grabbing a throw that had been a gift from santa, and pulling it close to him and nuzzling the super-soft fabric against his face.  He glanced at the clock on his bedside table, it read 7:23.

He was so tired, and his day had seemed longer than most days.  He was ready to slip into unconsciousness.

 

His bedside clock read 10:47.  He hadn’t fallen asleep yet.  He focused on keeping his mind clear, he tried not to think about the math test he had tomorrow, or the essay for Professor. Metatron, or the fact that Dean _friggin’_ Winchester was his essay partner.

No, no, he was keeping his mind clear.

 

**Wednesday, January 21st**

 

At 1:17, Castiel got up and turned on a cd his dad got him to help him sleep.  It was filled with slow classical songs.  Castiel hated it, but when he was this tired, his mind would get lost in the notes and it was almost like sleeping.

At 2:53 he rolled over and happened to glance at the clock.

He woke up at 4:08.   He’d been dreaming he was doing his routine on the parallel bars in gymnastics, he’d jerked himself awake when his dream self fell off and there was no one there to catch him.  Castiel wondered how long he’d slept.

He heard Gabriel’s alarm go off at 6:00.  He wondered if he should just get up.

Castiel was still awake when his alarm went off at 7:00 am.  He flipped the switch to turn off the nasally buzzing and lied in bed for a few extra minutes, in no danger of falling asleep.


	4. Fireflies and Bonfires

**Friday, January 23rd**

 

“I’m _beat_.”  Dean said, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his fists against his eyes.  “Can we call it a day already?”  

Cas just chuckled.  Dean had to appreciate his patience; as much as he’d tried, Dean hadn’t been much help with the essay and hadn’t been able to stop himself from complaining for the last half hour or so.

“If you think Mr. Metatron will accept _this_ ,”  Cas gestured to the essay on his computer screen, “then get ready for an F.”  Dean leaned his head on his hand and watched the cursor flit about the screen as Cas edited the word document for the fourth time.  

“Where are you in such a hurry to go, anyway?”  Cas asked.

Dean glanced at Cas, he looked even paler than normal with the glow of the computer screen lighting up his face.  “I don’t have anywhere to be,” he replied as he turned his head to look fully at his essay partner.  “I just think it’s good enough to pass.”

“Well, Dean, I hate to break it to you, but you partnered with an A honor roll student.  I want to do more than just pass.”  Cas didn’t spare him a glance as he continued proofreading.  

Cas had insisted on a lot of things for their essay, like making valid arguments throughout each paragraph instead of something he called ‘word vomit.’  And then finding the perfect sources to back up those arguments.  They were on the fourth draft of the essay now, and Dean was pretty much sick of **How Shakespeare Infantilized Romeo**.  Dean wasn’t even sure if he and Cas had read the same play.  

Dean quietly waited for Cas to edit the last paragraph before insisting that the essay was kosher, but the sophomore spoke before Dean could open his mouth.

“Do you want to hang out with me after this?”  Cas asked him, clicking on the save icon before printing two copies of the essay.

Dean sat up, surprised.  “Uh, sure thing, I’ll just have to call and check on my brother.  What do you want to do?”

Cas bit his lip for a moment while he shut down his laptop.  “Well, my friend Charlie has a play tonight and I promised I would go.”

“That sounds fun.”  Dean said as he followed Cas to the printer across the room.  “What’s the play?”

“A Midsummer Night’s Dream.”  Cas’s eyes were blue as blue could be, Dean couldn’t help but give him a small smile as Cas looked up at him and handed him his copy of their completed essay.

“More Shakespeare?”  Dean let out a fake groan, then smiled when Cas grinned and rolled his eyes.

“Also, the seniors have a bonfire planned for this evening, it doesn’t start until eight, so we have time to do both if you want.”

Dean gracelessly shoved his paper in his bag and waited patiently for Cas to put his essay neatly into a folder and carefully stow it in his backpack.  “Wouldn’t the seniors want to keep the younger crowd out of their party?”

“I hadn’t thought about it, actually.”  Cas said slowly as they left the student resource center.  “The twins are the ones who set it up, they said I could go as long as I find my own ride.”

“So you’re just using me for my car.”  Dean teased, nudging Cas with his elbow.  The shorter boy grinned up at him, Dean thought it was adorable they way he showed off his gums when he smiled like that.

“No, I’m not, Dean.  I think it’ll be fun.  I’d ask you to go with me even if I had my own car.”

“Hey, _hey,_ no chick flick moments.”  But Dean smiled at Cas, and Cas smiled back, his cheeks pink and those blue eyes crinkling as they walked to the auditorium to buy tickets to the play.

 

They had about an hour to kill before the show, so they pocketed their tickets and headed to BigGerson's for dinner.  Dean called Sam on the drive over, to let him know he wouldn’t be back at the motel until late and to make sure the kid was okay.  Sam guiltily told him he’d already ordered a pizza and had walked to a nearby video store and rented a few movies.

“Don’t be too loud, Sam.  No trumpet.”

 _“I know, I know.”_  Sam whined.  He’d almost gotten them kicked out the other night for practicing in their room.

Gabe was working the grill, Dean immediately leaned on the counter to tease him for his hairnet and paper hat.  He only left after Gabe promised to leave the special sauce off of Dean’s burger.  Cas had grabbed a booth by the window, his eyes were glued to the menu as Dean slid into the seat across from him.

“They have a new pie,”  Cas announced, his eyes down, “pink lemonade with blue cotton candy whipped cream.”  Cas made a face and said ‘that sounds disgusting’ at the same time Dean said ‘that sounds _awesome_.’  Their eyes met and the two dissolved into a laughing fit just as Gabe came around to take their order.

“You two look like you’re on a date, boys.”  Gabe flashed a mischievous smile at the two of them and readied a notepad.  

“Har, har.”  Dean said, shoving Gabe in the side a little.  “Can you eat with us?”

Gabe shook his head.  “I’ve already taken a break, I had to beg the boss to cover me on grill so I can be your waiter.”

“Too bad.”  Dean made a face and ordered himself a bacon cheeseburger and a slice of pink lemonade pie.  Dean looked to Cas as the younger boy took one last look at the menu.  While Cas told Gabe what he wanted, Dean noticed a faint blush on his cheeks and couldn’t help wondering about it.

The two were quiet until after Gabe brought them their drinks, Dean was floundering for something to say to Cas.  The two had only had a handful of conversations, and most of those had been about school or their essay.

“So, Cas,”  He finally settled on a question.  Cas looked up from his tea with a polite smile and waited an awkward moment for Dean’s brain to catch up with his mouth.  “What, ah, what kind of music do you like?”

Cas looked a bit apprehensive.  “Well, have you heard of the Irish Tenors?”

“I- I can’t say I have.”  Dean couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at his friend’s little brother.

Cas let out a nervous laugh.  “That’s who I was listening to during my free period today.  I like Dean Martin, Elvis, um,”  Cas licked his lip and looked above Dean’s head while he thought.  “I also like Elton John, Johnny Cash, and uh, have you heard of John Denver?”

Dean had a hard time keeping his facial expression in check.  “You listen to _Elvis_?  And _John Denver_?  How old are you, mid-to-late sixties?”  

Cas narrowed his eyes at Dean.  “Who do you listen to, then?  Taylor Swift?  Justin Bieber?”  

Dean laughed a harsh barking sound, “Them’s fighting words, buddy.  Try _the greats_ ,”  He started numbering off bands with his fingers.  “Metallica, Motorhead, Led friggin’ Zeppelin, Black Sabbath, Aerosmith, and of course, AC/DC.”

The dark haired boy nodded but didn’t look impressed.  “I don’t know what else I expected from a boy that wears plaid with leather.”  He said it teasingly, then paused for a moment, Dean watched his blue eyes scan Dean’s red and black flannel shirt and noticed a small smile on Cas’s lips.  “What’s Motorhead?”

Dean gaped and gave Cas an exasperated look.  “We’ll listen to them when we get back to the car.”  It was lucky that Gabriel showed up at that moment with their food, else Dean say something he couldn’t take back about the younger boy’s musical tastes.

“I’ll bring your pie in a bit, Dean-O.”  Gabe said before taking their cups to refill them.

“Do you have a job, Dean?”  Cas asked after he swallowed a bite of his grilled cheese.

Dean shook his head.  “No, my dad leaves us credit cards, and if I need cash, I’ll go play poker or pool.”

Cas squinted his eyes and tilted his head, quietly studying Dean while Gabe returned their drinks.  After his brother left, Cas finally opened his mouth again.  “I’m sorry, your main source of income is what?  Betting on pool and winning poker games?”  Dean nodded, his mouth too full of bacon cheeseburger to answer.  “But what if you _lose_?”

Dean laughed and nearly choked on his food.  After he recovered he said, “I dunno, I don’t usually lose.”  Cas’s eyebrows furrowed and he gave Dean a very concerned look but didn’t make any more comments.

“Where do you work?”  Dean asked, shoving a french fry in his mouth.

Cas chewed and swallowed his mouthful of food before answering, “Nobody around here will hire a fifteen year old.  I sometimes babysit for the Novak’s, they’re my parents’ friends.”

After that, their conversation died out while they ate.  Dean was just about done with his burger when a group of five very loud, cheering employees surrounded the end of their booth.  Gabe stood in the center of the group holding Dean’s pink lemonade pie with maybe half a dozen lit candles shoved into the top.  Gabe slid the pie in front of him and fitted a paper hat onto Dean’s head.  Dean gave his best friend what he was sure a look of pure betrayal, his mouth hanging open stupidly.

“My little man is turning sixteen tomorrow, folks!”  Gabriel announced to the room.  “Let’s give him a big hand!”  Scattered, unenthusiastic applause rounded the restaurant.  Dean wanted nothing more than to fall through the floor and disappear.

Dean could feel his cheeks heating up while the group of employees started a rambunctious chorus of ‘happy birthday.’  Dean could see several of the customers turn to watch; he felt like every eye in the store was on him.

Dean sank into the seat of the booth, his eyes focused on the flaming pie.  His face must be beet red by now; he would kill Gabe for this, Dean _hated_ being the center of attention.  Finally, _finally_ , four of the employees left for the kitchen, leaving Gabriel standing alone at the end of their booth.

Gabe gave Dean a hearty slap on the shoulder and boisterously said ‘Blow out your candles and make a wish, Dean-O.  Happy birthday!’  Dean shot a fist at Gabe’s closest leg, but the shorter boy dodged it easily and slid into the seat next to Cas.

“Make a wish, man!”  Gabe insisted.

Dean scratched at the stupid paper hat and quickly tried to think of a wish, biting his lip and trying to ignore the scores of eyes he felt were still watching him.  He took a breath and was just about to blow out the candles when a pair of stunning blue eyes caught his attention.

Cas was smiling warmly at him, the orange candle light shining brightly in his eyes and made his skin look warm and glowing.  Dean had the ridiculous impulse to lean forward and touch his cheek and had to force his hand into a tight fist to stop himself.  For several moments, Dean couldn’t look away from Cas’s eyes.  His breath seemed to leave him and he lost track of time.  The eyes of the other customers that he had been so sure were watching him seemed to fall away, and it was just Dean and Castiel sitting together over a slice of pie.

 _He looks so beautiful._  The thought entered Dean’s brain of it’s own accord and Dean couldn’t argue with himself, Cas did indeed look amazing.  It was only when one corner of Cas’s lips turned up in a smile that Dean realized he was suppose to be making a wish.  His brain hadn’t gotten past how stunning Cas looked, so Dean blew out his candles without having an articulated wish formed in his mind, just _he looks so beautiful_.

“Hello, Earth to Dean.”  Gabriel snapped his fingers in front of Dean’s face, jerking Dean out of his trance.  

“What?”

“I said, ‘What did you wish for?’”  Gabriel leaned back and gave him a weird look.

“Uh, nothing.”  Dean took a long draw from his straw and quickly thought of a change of subject.  “Are you going to the bonfire tonight, Gabe?”

“I haven’t decided yet.  I close tonight, so it depends on how late it is when we get out of here.”  Gabe looked up when a man behind the counter called his name.  “Got to get, guys, have _fun_.”  He said the last bit in a leering way to his little brother and got lost.

Cas pulled a candle out of Dean’s pie and licked the pie filling off the wax.  Dean didn’t realize he was still staring until Cas met his eyes mid-lick.  Dean immediately dropped his gaze and started pulling the rest of the candles out.  The two were silent while Dean started in on his pie, looking anywhere but at Cas.

“Is it really your birthday, or is Gabriel just being his usual self?”  Cas asked, breaking the rising uncomfortable silence.

“Tomorrow is, yeah.”  Dean said through his mouthful of pie.

“And you’re turning sixteen?”  Cas had his eyes narrowed at Dean again, his head tilted to the side.  Dean nodded, keeping his eyes on his pie.  “But you’re a _junior_.”  Cas accused, and Dean had to look up when he registered Cas’s tone.  “You’re _my age_ , and a _junior_.”

“Why are you mad?”  Dean asked, shoving the last bite of pie in his mouth and setting down his fork.

“Because I thought you were Gabriel’s age, but you’re only like, two and a half months older than I am!”  Cas’s eyebrows were furrowed and his jaw was set.

Dean felt thoroughly bewildered.  

“I’m, sorry?”  He slowly leaned back in the booth to get some distance between him and Cas’s piercing gaze.  “About that?”  He added as Cas continued to stare him down.

Cas finally looked away and shook his head, muttering what sounded like ‘that’s ridiculous.’  Dean laughed nervously and quickly escaped the booth to go pay for their dinner.  Gabriel met him at the register with another ‘happy birthday, Dean!’  Cas slowly made his way to the register and stood beside him.

“I left the tip on the table.”  The shorter boy informed him as he filled out the pay receipt.

“Thanks, baby bro.”  Gabe beamed at Cas, reminding Dean of something.

“Gabe, how old are you?”  He questioned as he handed his friend the receipt.

“Seventeen.  Why?  Do you need a chaperone to an R-rated movie?”  Gabe wiggled his eyebrows at him and grinned at his own joke.

“Just wondering.  Thanks for thoroughly embarrassing me in front of the entire restaurant.”  Dean turned and opened the door for Cas, hyper aware of the shorter boy as he passed him and rolling his eyes at Gabe’s ‘my pleasure.’  Dean followed the grumpy, dark haired boy across the parking lot to the impala.

Once they were settled and a Motorhead song was coming out of the speakers, Dean turned to his passenger.  “Will you tell me why my birthday offends you?”  He tried to sound polite, noting that the shorter boy was staring pointedly out of the passenger side window.

“Will you tell me how you’re a junior?”  Came the slightly sarcastic reply.  Cas’s tone made Dean smile as he pulled out of the parking spot.

“Sure, I registered myself and Sammy during my seventh grade year, and I really _hated_ seventh grade, so I lied about my age.”  Dean could feel Cas’s eyes on him, but couldn’t check now that they were on the possibly icy roads.  “I faked the documents, though the school didn’t check _that_ carefully.  After the first school, the other schools just followed along with the transcripts and I skipped a grade.”

“So you’re really a sophomore.”

Dean shrugged.  “Not really, I’ve taken all of my sophomore classes.  Except English, I failed last year.”  Dean glanced sideways at his passenger, about to re-ask what was eating him about his age, but Cas spoke over him.

“Can we stop at that grocery store?  I’ll be quick.”

Dean pulled into the parking lot and the two were quiet as they entered the mostly-empty store.  Cas made a beeline straight for the floral department, he browsed the different bouquets while Dean followed behind, hands in his pockets and feeling a bit out of place surrounded by flowers.  Dean used Cas’s displaced attention as an opportunity to openly watch the shorter boy.

 _He’s handsome_ , Dean decided, watching Cas stretch up and stand on his toes in order to inspect a bouquet on the top shelf.  Dean hadn’t noticed the way Cas’s long muscles bulged under his shirt upon their first meeting; it was subtle, but definitely there now that he knew what to look for.  

Cas’s usual style was a long-sleeve button up tucked into nice jeans with a sweater-vest.  Normally Dean wouldn’t have thought that particular style could look attractive on _anyone,_ but there he was, a five foot four walking contradiction that Dean couldn’t take his eyes off of.  Dean’s gaze travelled up Cas’s back to his messy shock of black hair, and he hardly noticed a small smile form on his lips at the endearing sight of Cas’s hair curling slightly around his ears.

Not noticing that Dean was thoroughly checking him out, Cas continued searching through the stores’ flowers.  In the end, he picked one of the largest bouquets, one that contained roses along with five or six other kinds of flowers that Dean couldn’t identify.  Dean followed his friend, his eyes still on Cas as he marched to the checkout.

“Who are the flowers for?”  Dean asked nonchalantly, holding the bouquet for Cas while the shorter boy paid.

“They’re for Charlie.”  Cas said simply as he counted out change.  

“Charlie’s playing an elf in the play tonight.”  Cas said a minute later, his eyes resting on Dean as the two of them made their way to the exit.

Dean felt his stomach drop; of _course_ Cas would have a boyfriend.  Dean chewed on his lip as they crossed the parking lot and didn’t speak again until they pulled into a parking spot in front of the school.

“So, why were you mad that I skipped a grade?”  Not that it mattered, really.  But Dean thought that Cas might actually answer now that he’d had some time to wrap his brain around the topic.

When Cas didn’t answer, Dean looked across the bench of the impala at his passenger.  Cas’s eyes looked gray in the dim light; clouds were moving in, turning the sunset into a dreary affair.  Dean was shocked at the forlorn expression on Cas’s face as he looked back at him.  

“It’s nothing, Dean.”  Though Cas’s voice was barely above a whisper, it was heart wrenching.  Dean once again resisted the urge to reach out and cup Cas’s cheek, to do anything to comfort him.   _He’s got a boyfriend,_ he reminded himself angrily, _keep your hands to yourself._

“What’s wrong?”  Dean asked softly, dropping the car keys into his jacket pocket and turning in his seat to face Cas.  Cas didn’t respond, he just turned his head to look out the windshield at the entrance of the school, Dean noticed him lick his bottom lip nervously.  

“It’s nothing, Dean.”  He repeated more convincingly, his deep voice doing weird things in Dean’s rib cage.

“Okay,”  The taller boy said slowly, not entirely convinced.  “Are you ready?  The play will start soon.”

Cas nodded, still staring at a faraway place near the school’s entrance.

“Don’t forget your jacket, it’ll probably be pretty cold by the time it’s over.”  Cas passed Dean the flowers and, after turning and standing on his knees in the seat, dug through his bag to retrieve his plain brown fleece jacket.

 

Dean thought the play was pretty boring, until about halfway through when he heard Cas whisper ‘wow’ from the chair beside him.  Dean followed Cas’s gaze to the rafters, and dropped his jaw when he realized what he was looking at.  The auditorium was filled with blinking fireflies, apparently someone wanted this performance to be extra special.  Dean had a hard time paying attention to the actors after that, instead preferring to steal glances at Cas and losing focus altogether when a firefly landed on Cas’s shirt sleeve.

Dean matched Cas’s marveling smile as the beetle lit up and flew away to join its friends.  He couldn’t help but take a moment to study Cas’s upturned face, reveling in what the sight was doing to his heart.  He only looked away when a small voice in his head reminded him that Cas already had a boyfriend.

 

When the actors took their bows, Castiel stood and clapped louder than anyone, and at one point shook Dean’s shoulder and pointed at the stage, saying ‘There’s Charlie!’  Dean didn’t know which guy he was pointing to, as there were around five elves bowing in a row when he said it.

Dean lost Cas in the bustle in the hallway; parents were shouting their children’s names, looking for their little actor or actress.  He was pinned in place for several seconds by a group of children who’d had to sit still and quiet for far too long, they shrieked and ran amok through the many bodies that crowded the space.  Dean searched the hall, angrily cursing at how easily short people could disappear into a crowd.  He finally found Cas at the very end of the line of actors, laughing happily with a short red-headed elf that now held Cas’s bouquet of flowers.

“There you are, Dean!”  Cas said over the crowd as he approached.  

“Woah!”  He heard the elf say, and he was taken aback a bit by a distinctly female voice.  “Is this who I think it is?”  Then Dean was being pulled down and hugged by the girl whose red hair barely cleared his shoulders.

“Dean, this is Charlie Bradbury, Charlie, this is Dean Winchester.”  Though a bit confused, Dean smiled and tried to interpret the casual way Cas had a hand on Charlie’s shoulder.  

Hadn’t Gabe told him that Cas came out last September?  Dean felt one if his eyebrows creep up his forehead as he watched the two short people interact.   _What the hell_.  He thought as Cas gave Charlie a smile that showed off his gums.  Maybe Gabe had meant something else, Cas could have come out as vegan for all he knew.

Charlie shared a significant look with Cas, then looked back at Dean, saying “I thought you’d be taller.”  

Dean tilted his head, wondering why she would say that before blurting out “So, you’re Cas’s girlfriend?”  

His statement won him a matching pair of flabbergasted expressions before the two were both laughing at him.

“Dean, you’re an idiot.”  Cas said, not unkindly, between bouts of laughter.

Despite being laughed at, and being called an idiot, Dean suddenly felt ten pounds lighter.

Still, he had to ask.  “Why am I an idiot?”  

Cas just shook his head and waved a hand at Dean, still laughing.  “I’ll tell you later.”  Charlie was looking from Dean to Cas and back again, a smile spreading from ear to ear.

They chatted with Charlie for another twenty minutes.  In that time, Dean decided he liked Charlie very much, she seemed easy going and kind, and especially kind to Cas.  She would fondly tug on his unruly hair, trying to get it to lay flat or at least all stick up in the same direction.  When they left her, she grabbed Dean again and pulled him into a rib-cracking hug before hugging Cas and whispering something Dean didn’t catch into his ear.

Cas was still smiling when they got back into the impala.  The sun had set long ago and the air was starting to get bitingly cold.  Dean cranked the heater and waited a moment in the parking spot for the engine to warm up.

“So, bonfire?”  Dean asked, turning down the volume of the Motorhead cassette so they could talk comfortably.

Cas nodded, rubbing his hands together.  “Yeah, we’ll need blankets, though.  I don’t even have a coat with me, and it’s supposed to get pretty cold tonight.”

“Where to?”  Dean smiled fondly at his shivering passenger and leaned forward to point the vents at Cas.

“My house.  I’ll grab some blankets and gloves and stuff.  My parents wanted me to check in before the bonfire, anyway.”  Cas shot Dean a nervous grin.  “Plus, they’ll probably want to meet you, since you’re driving me.”

“Sounds like a plan.”  Dean let off the parking brake and followed Cas’s directions.

 

The Mills lived in a modest-sized house at the top of a hill on a cul-de-sac.  Dean parked in the street beside a snow pile that had yet to melt completely and followed Cas across the dead grass of the front yard.

“I’m going to apologize ahead of time,”  Cas warned as they climbed the steps onto the porch.  “My dad will probably ask you a million or two questions while we’re here, Gabriel told him you’ve read his books and you liked them.”

Dean smiled and tried to keep his excitement in check.  “I’ve been wanting to meet him anyway.  I think I’ve read just about all of the Supernatural books.”

“ _Why_ , though?”  Castiel asked as they reached the porch.  “Not that they’re not good, but it’s the same thing over and over.  Those two brothers go in, ask some questions, burn a corpse or behead a vampire, and blow out of town.”

“I just like the different ways he kills different monsters.”  Dean fibbed.  It wasn’t a complete lie, the procedures listed in Carver Edlund’s Supernatural books were the accurate, 100 percent infallible way to kill any monster the characters came across.  Dean’s dad had made him and Sam read them since they first learned to read.  And a lot of hunters kept spare copies of the first book to hand out to people who couldn’t ignore the fact that werewolves and ghosts were real.  The series had become a guide of sorts, and hunters everywhere wanted to know who the hell this Carver Edlund was.  To present such accurate information as a work of fiction was brilliant, and had undoubtedly saved the lives of countless new hunters.

Castiel gave Dean a bizarre look and opened the front door.

“Who’s that?”  A woman’s voice reached them as they crossed the threshold into a small entryway.

“It’s me, I brought a friend.”  Cas called out, wiping his shoes on the mat and waiting for Dean to do the same before leading him into a softly-lit living room.  Dean glimpsed a tidy, homely room that was overstuffed with couches before he turned his attention to Cas’s mom.

Officer Jody Mills was the high school’s resource officer.  Dean had seen her a couple times, but hadn’t yet had a conversation with her.  Dean watched as the short-haired woman pulled Cas into a hug and planted a kiss into his wild hair.  She smiled at their guest and held out a hand to Dean, he shook it, not at all surprised at her firm grip on his hand.

“Mom, this is Dean Winchester, one of mine and Gabriel’s friends.  He’s going to the bonfire with me, if that’s all right.”

“‘Course it is.”  Jody said easily, smiling at Cas.  

“Where’s dad?”  Cas asked, probably for Dean’s benefit.  He threw another glance at Dean that made him feel like the shorter boy was judging him a little for liking his father’s books.

“He left to pick up your little brother from that birthday party.  Go get bundled up, kiddo.”  Jody patted her son on the back and he took off up the stairs on the left side of the living room, then she leveled her gaze onto Dean.  “So this is the Dean that Gabriel always talks about.  You go to Helland High?”

“Yes, ma’am.”  Dean rocked back on his heels and kept his hands in his jacket pockets.

“Hm.  I don’t think I’ve seen you around.”  Officer Mills was giving him a long, searching look.

“I’m, uh, new.  We just moved here over Christmas break.”  Dean could hear Cas opening and closing doors upstairs, and fervently wished he would hurry.

“How do you know Gabriel?”

“We’re both in varsity wrestling.”

“And Castiel?”

“We’re in a couple classes together, and I’m his spotter in gymnastics.”

Officer Mills nodded and looked him up and down again before asking ‘Do you have a coat?’

Dean gestured to his leather jacket.  “This is warmer than it looks.”

She didn’t look convinced, though thankfully at that moment Cas bustled down the stairs carrying several thick blankets and wearing a coat and hat.

“Did you grab Dean a hat and some gloves?”  Officer Mills asked her son, who stammered for a second before answering that he hadn’t.  “Go get him some, and a scarf, hon.”

Cas handed Dean the blankets before disappearing up the stairs again.

“I’ll be fine, Officer Mills, really-”  Dean began, but was cut short by Cas’s mom holding up a hand to silence him.

“You don’t need to catch a cold just because my son wants you to go sit around in the snow with him.”  She gave him a look, and Dean saw some of Gabriel’s sass in his mom’s face.  “You do know it’s suppose to snow tonight, right?  I tried to get the twins to reschedule, but you’ve got to let them grow up and be their own people at some point.”

Dean let out a nervous laugh just as Cas came back down the stairs, an extra pair of gloves and a hat in his hands and two scarves slung around his neck.

“I think we’re ready!”  Cas announced, letting his mom give him another hug.

“Okay, have fun, you two!”  She pressed another kiss on him, this time on his cheek and Cas promptly whined out an embarrassed ‘mom!’  She was smiling when she let him go and walked them to the door, patting Dean on the shoulder as he passed her.

“Midnight, young man.”  She said sternly to her son.

“Yes, ma’am.”  Cas said with an excited grin.

“Drive safe, young man.”  She said to Dean in the exact same tone she’d used on Cas.

“Yes, ma’am.”  Dean smiled despite himself, shifting the blankets higher in his arms and turning to follow Cas to the car.

 

“Can I ask you something?”  Dean asked a few minutes later as they drove past the outskirts of town.

“Of course, Dean.”  Cas was sitting in the passenger seat with his phone in his hands, the light from the map illuminating the cab in a white light.

“Was that your mom, or your step mom?”

“My mom.  It can be a bit confusing, but Gabriel, Samandriel, and I are mom’s kids.  The twins and Raphael are Dad’s kids.  Turn right just up here, Dean.”  Dean turned where Cas pointed him before asking him the next question.

“I don’t mean to pry, Cas, I really don’t.  If you don’t want to talk about it, I understand, but what happened to your dad and your brother’s mom?”  He purposefully avoided saying ‘real dad’ or ‘real mom’ when he phrased the question.

“It doesn’t bother me at all, Dean.”  Dean glanced over at him, he looked completely relaxed despite the conversation and the bumpy road.  “Dad’s first wife passed away when the boys were really little.  Mom’s first husband walked out on us a few months after Samandriel was born.”

Dean’s eyebrows raised, he couldn’t help it.  “Wow, Cas.  I’m really sorry.”

“Don’t be.”  Cas said lightly.  “I don’t remember him anyway, and neither does Gabriel.  Chuck’s the only father any of us has ever known.  He’s always been my Dad, why should I be upset over a man I don’t even remember?”

“You’re right, buddy.”  Dean said, eyes on the road.  A few beats of silence were only broken by the purr of the impala’s engine and the occasional squeak of the windshield wipers as they battled the snow.

“What about your parents?  You never mention them.”  Cas sounded apprehensive, like he’d been wanting to ask Dean this for a while.

“What do you want to know?”  Dean tried to keep his voice light.  Though he was an expert at lying by this point in his life, he didn’t want to lie to Cas, there was something that just didn’t sit right in his chest when he thought about it.  The whole truth was out of the question, of course.  He didn’t want Cas to know what was really out there.  Cas deserved to feel safe in this world.  Half-truths would have to suffice.

“Your parents left you here, didn’t they?  Left you in Sioux Falls, I mean.”

Dean nodded, eyes glued to the winding road.  “It’s just me and Sammy, Dad left us here so we could have some stability.  His job makes him move around a lot, and the next few month were looking like they’d be especially hectic.”  That was true, Dean’s dad was a hunter and he moved them around constantly.  Normally, Dean would go with his dad on hunts, but when his father caught wind of a demon, he’d left his sons behind to keep them safe.

Dean didn’t like being left behind.  His dad was hunting the demon who killed his and Sam’s mom, Dean had just as much a right to hunt it down as his dad did.

“And- and your mom?”  Dean barely heard the question, like Cas was worried he was crossing a line that Dean didn’t want crossed.

Dean sighed heavily before answering.  “My mom died when I was four.  House fire.  Sammy was just a baby, he doesn’t remember her at all.”  Dean pulled his wallet out of his pocket, flipped it to the pictures and handed it to Cas.  The dark haired boy looked at Dean as a child being held by his mother, using the light from his phone to see in the dark cab.

Cas was quiet for several moments, studying the picture in Dean’s wallet.  “I’m so sorry, Dean.”  He said finally, running a thumb over the plastic cover.  “Do you remember her?”

Dean shrugged.  They had finally reached the bonfire; several cars were parked just off the road and Dean could see firelight through the trees.  He set the parking brake and cut the engine, his eyes fixed on a point just outside the windshield instead of looking at Cas.

“I remember a few things.  Nothing big.”  He paused, taking time to choose his words.  “You know, you shouldn’t be embarrassed by your mom, even if she wants to kiss your cheek in front of friends from school.  There’s nothing wrong with having a mother who loves you.”

Dean could tell the deep-seated effect his words had on Cas without even looking at him.  The smaller boy stiffened and his breath held for several moments while he absorbed Dean’s words.

“Dean, I’m so sorry.  I- I didn’t mean to offend you, I-.”

“You didn’t offend me, Cas.”  Dean finally turned in his seat to face his friend.  “And I’m not trying to tell you how to act, I’m just saying, someday you might wish you’d let your mom kiss you once or twice more.”  Dean sighed and held his out his hand for his wallet and Cas passed it over wordlessly.  The silence in the cab stretched for several seconds before Dean finally broke it in an over-enthusiastic voice.

“Let’s go look at a campfire!”  At least it made Cas grin.

 

It turns out, ‘campfire’ was a bit of an understatement.  Three long, five foot tall pyres arranged in a loose triangle burned brightly in a clearing at the bottom of the hill they had parked on.  Dean could feel the heat coming off of the nearest one from over fifteen feet away.  Surrounding each pyre were rows of logs people were using as seats.  There was a table selling coffee, hot chocolate, and various sweets at the far end of the field.  In the middle of the triangle  stood a semi-circle of people holding instruments.  They weren’t playing any music, it looked to Dean like the drummer was still setting up.

“Oh, good!”  Cas exclaimed, his arms full of blankets.  “They haven’t started the music yet.  Let’s get good seats!”  Dean followed Cas to an empty log close to one of the fires, but not so close that their clothing would melt from the heat.  The smaller boy plopped down on the make shift bench and pulled a blanket onto his lap.  Dean stood behind Cas and layered two blankets over his friend’s shoulders before joining him on the bench and wrapping a blanket around himself.

“Here, Dean.”  Cas said, throwing a scarf over Dean’s head and wrapping it loosely around his neck.  Dean smiled, the scarf was already warm from being worn by Cas.

“Thanks, Cas.”  Dean accepted the mittens Cas brought and tried to refuse the hat, but Cas scoffed and put it on his head anyway.  Dean blushed a little as Cas’s face came closer to his own, his eyes slid down Cas’s face and focused on the younger boy’s lips.  A thought forced it’s way into his brain and he abruptly wondered what it would be like to kiss Cas.  

Dean held still, focusing on the way Cas’s arms felt resting on his collarbones as Cas tugged the hat over his ears.  Cas smiled as he carefully fixed Dean’s hair so it would look nice despite the hat, Dean found himself smiling back and sincerely hoping the cold air would be enough of a viable excuse for having pink cheeks.

“Hand over some blankets, Castiel.”  A voice said before Cas’s mittened hands had left Dean’s hair.  Michael Mills stood over them, seemingly not at all bothered by finding his brother with his hands all over Michael’s sprinting rival.

“I only brought six!  I don’t have enough for you, if you wanted me to bring you some you should have texted me.”  Cas said earnestly, giving his brother a stubborn look.

“You don’t need six blankets for two people.”  Michael said evenly.  “Come on, Castiel, you’ll be plenty warm this close to the fire.”  Michael shot a fleeting glance at Dean.  “Or the two of you could just sh-.”

“Michael!”  Cas warned, looking murderous.

“I just need two, baby brother,” Michael’s voice was like honey, “then I’ll leave you alone.”

Cas bit his lip for a moment, “ _Fine._ ”  He forced out, throwing the last two folded blankets at his brother.  “Don’t say I never did anything for you.”  Michael smiled and thanked his brother before turning back to the group of musicians.

“Sorry, Dean.”  Cas said quietly, holding out a blanket.  “I hope we don’t get cold.”

Dean chewed on his lip, debating on if he should say what he wanted to say.  But no, he chickened out.  “Do you want some hot cocoa?  Or coffee?”

“Hot chocolate sounds good.”  Cas smiled.

“Coming right up, buddy.”  Although, Dean could stay there and look at Cas’s smile all night, after a few beats of silence, he had to make himself get up and cross the field.  

Michael was going over a song list with the band, the borrowed blankets draped over his shoulders as he sat in front of a keyboard.  Dean didn’t recognize most of the band members; aside from Michael who looked like he’d be singing and playing piano, and Lucifer, who was holding a violin in his hands.  A brunette girl he’d never seen sat slightly behind Michael with an acoustic guitar, a big guy Dean thought he’d seen in his math class had a cello hooked up to an amp.  Dean smiled awkwardly when he made eye contact with the blonde girl sitting at the drum set, she smiled back at him before turning her attention back to Michael.

Dean paid ten bucks for two cups of cocoa and four sugar cookies.   _Not a bad gig they’ve got going on, really_.

When Dean saw Cas again, a boldness took hold of him.  “Come here.”  He commanded, setting their drinks on an even spot on the ground and pulling the blankets on Cas’s shoulders to the side so they’d cover both of them.  Cas scooted close, draping the doubled-up blankets over their legs and gratefully taking his cup of liquid warmth.  Dean felt his cheeks get hot as Cas’s thigh pressed against his and the shorter boy’s arm settled comfortably at his side.  Dean sat the cookies on their blanket-covered legs just as Michael spoke into a microphone, calling for everyone’s attention.

“ _Hey, guys!  Thanks for coming_!”  He waited for the crowd to quiet a bit more before continuing.  “ _ust a couple reminders: please use the trash cans, they’re all in the bed of Benny’s truck_.”  Michael pointed to the only vehicle in the clearing, which had six large trash cans strapped in the back of it.  “ _Don’t mess with the fires, kids.  The bright and burning stuff needs to stay put, you will be asked to leave if you have fire outside of the fire pits.  And last thing; if you have alcohol, please keep it hidden and to yourself, my mom’s a cop and I think just about every person here is under twenty one.  Oh, and if you’re sloshed, don’t drive home, have a friend take you, thanks._ ”  Some scattered applause followed his speech, followed by the hum of a speaker being turned on.

“ _Okay, guys.  We have a few songs for you tonight, here we go!_ ”  With no further introduction, the girl on drums hit her drumsticks together to the count of four and the band started on a cover of Michael Jackson’s _The Way You Make Me Feel._

Dean thought they were pretty good.  “Are they like, a real band?”  He asked Cas, who was bobbing his head along to the music.

“No, they only ever get together for stuff like this.  The twins don’t have time to be in a band, although I’m pretty sure Michael would love to.”  Cas scooted a little closer to Dean, their bodies pressed together under the covers.

They spent the next three songs like that, not quite cuddling but not _not_ cuddling, drinking hot chocolate and munching on their cookies.  They didn’t feel the need to keep up a constant stream of conversation, and let the music fill the empty space left by the absence of their voices.  They were plenty warm between the blankets, the fire, and each other; Dean was slowly nodding off, leaning heavily into Cas when Michael’s voice made him jerk himself awake.

“ _Is my little brother still here?_ ”  He asked the crowd.

Someone shouted ‘which one, dude?’  Which caused some scattered laughter.

“ _Castiel?  Come up here, buddy.  I need your help with the next song_.”  Michael said when he spotted his little brother huddled at Dean’s side.

“Oh, god.”  Cas breathed, eyes wide with apprehension.  “All these people.”

“Not part of the plan?”  Dean asked, sitting up and taking the empty cup out of Cas’s hands.

“Not at all.”  Cas replied, taking off the blankets and standing.  Dean stood and wrapped the blankets that had been in their lap around Cas’s shoulders and wished his friend good luck.

Michael encouraged the crowd to clap for Cas as the dark-haired boy crossed the field, Dean enthusiastically clapped, though the noise was slightly dampened by his mittens.  He could hear Michael giving Cas instructions, and strained to see around the few people milling about.  Castiel sat on the piano bench next to his brother and Michael moved the microphone so they could both sing into it.

“ _I barely know this song, Michael._ ”  He heard Cas say over the speakers as he pulled off his mittens.

“ _The words are here_.”  Michael propped a paper onto the piano’s music stand.  “ _Just back me up, you got this_.”

“ _Okay._ ”  Cas sounded nervous.  Dean was nervous for him.

Michael started off, playing some low chords on the keyboard in front of Cas and humming into the microphone.  After a few bars he let Cas take over, the younger boy played the chords Michael had been without skipping a beat.  The band members slowly joined in, one at a time until they were all playing a sad ballad Dean didn’t recognise.  Once Michael sang the first verse, about losing his love, Cas joined in in a deep baritone.

Dean was on the edge of his seat for the entirety of the song, willing his ears to pick out the specific notes sang and played by Cas.  The dark-haired boy was smiling; Dean could see half his face from his spot on the log, Dean smiled along with him.

At the song’s end, Michael called for a round of applause for Cas.  Dean was on his feet, cheering and whooping the loudest.  Cas beamed at him as he crossed the field to their log.

“Good job, Cas!”  Dean said enthusiastically, pulling the shorter boy into a tight embrace.

“Thanks, Dean.”  Cas grunted, his face lost somewhere in Dean’s chest.  Dean couldn’t help but laugh, which was odd, for him.  He was rarely so giddy.  He wrapped Cas back into the blankets before joining him once again on the log.

“That was so nerve-wracking.”  Cas said, his blue eyes wide and bright as he looked up at Dean.  Cas held out his hand, showing the taller boy how badly he was trembling.  “I’m shaking, see?”

“Are you cold?  Or is it adrenaline?”  Dean wrapped an arm over Cas’s shoulders, pulling him closer to his side.

“Both, I think.”  Cas laughed again and all but nuzzled into Dean’s side.  Dean sighed at the sight of the dark-haired boy wrapped in blankets and cuddling him, once again thinking that Cas was really beautiful.

Dean’s attention was slowly drawn back to the band, who seemed to have saved the best song for last.  Lucifer was definitely showing off his skills on violin with _The Devil Went Down To Georgia._  The blonde Mills twin even added a snippet of a classic rock song Dean couldn’t quite place before the notes were lost to the classic version.

The entire clearing erupted in cheers and clapping when the song ended.  Dean thought he heard a girl screaming Lucifer’s name like he was a big rock star or something.  Once everyone had calmed down a little, Michael thanked everyone and asked everyone to clear out no later than two, then the band started putting their instruments away.

“That was really cool.”  Dean commented, rubbing his mittened hand on Cas’s upper arm.  The smaller boy had started shivering, and Dean could see snowflakes settling in great rings around the fires.  Though Dean and Cas were close enough to the fire to keep the snow away, a light breeze bit at their exposed cheeks and noses, making their skin flush red.

“Yeah, it was.”  Cas wrapped an arm around Dean’s lower back, making Dean sigh and pull the shorter boy even closer.  The two sat in comfortable silence watching the people around them until Dean broke their silence.

“So, Cas.”  Dean waited until those blue eyes looked into his.  “Why am I an idiot?”  Dean tried to memorize the face Cas pulled; his nose crinkled in surprise and he broke out into another grin that showed off his gums as he laughed at Dean.

“I don’t know, Dean.  Were you born that way?”

Dean chuckled at Cas’s joke, but pressed forward.

“At Charlie’s play, we were standing in the hall afterwards and you called me an idiot.”  He watched as recognition lit up Cas’s face.

“I’d forgotten that.”  He laughed, Dean smiled with his eyes on Cas’s lips.  “You’re an idiot because you thought Charlie and I were dating each other and that’s, well, _absurd_.”

“Why is that?”  The entire field could be empty of other students for how focused Dean was on the dark-haired boy cuddled to his side.

“Well.”  Cas bit his lip and studied Dean, as if deciding what to say.  It took all of Dean’s patience as he anxiously awaited his next words.  “I’m not Charlie’s cup of tea, and Charlie’s not my cup of tea, either.”

Dean frowned for a second before it clicked.  “Oh, _oh!_  I got you.”

“Do you?”  Cas sat up straighter and looked worried.

“Yeah.”  Dean squeezed Cas’s shoulders again in reassurance, though the dark-haired boy had nothing to be worried about, it didn’t make a difference to Dean.  

 _Dean_ was a little worried, though.  He’d only spent a few hours outside of school with Cas, and he was already noticing little things that he shouldn’t be noticing about him.

Like the way his eyes and nose crinkled when he smiled, or how his lips pulled back enough to show his gums when he laughed.  Cas looked adorable when he rolled his eyes, it made Dean’s heart painfully skip a beat when Cas rolled his eyes at a dumb joke Dean made.  He liked how big Cas’s hands were, and how he could barely see his muscles through his dorky button-ups.  (Dean liked looking at Cas’s muscles in gymnastics, too, but tried to keep his eyes off the shorter boy since he was usually only wearing a skin-tight onesie and Dean didn’t feel it was right.)  Dean lived for seeing Cas bite his bottom lip; he did it all the time, but that didn’t make the action any less attractive to Dean.

Or the way Cas was looking at him right now, with an unsure half-smile and those big blue eyes that Dean could see the reflection of the firelight in.  Dean felt an unusual pressure in his chest and once again had the urge to cup Cas’s cheek in his hand.

The thought made Dean bite his lip.  He knew he wouldn’t dare be so bold.  Instead, he placed his mittened hand on the blankets over Cas’s knee and used the hand already wrapped around Cas to pull him closer.

“Dean?”  Cas’s voice was soft and unsure.

“Yeah?”  Dean pressed his cheek against Cas’s hat and wished they could stay like that forever.

“Who is, uh,”  Cas faltered.  Dean pulled back and gave Cas the kindest smile he could.  

It was enough encouragement for Cas to continue.

“Who is your cup of tea?”  Cas bit his lip nervously while Dean began sweating proverbial bullets.

Was he ready to have this conversation?  Dean was extremely hesitant to venture into that topic just in his own thoughts, he was even more reluctant to discuss it with a _guy_ he was barely starting to have feelings for.

“I- I, uh.”  He stammered, wrenching his eyes away from Cas’s.  Dean took a couple calming breaths, looking down at his mittened hand.  It was still resting on Cas’s knee.  The blankets were in the way, but his intentions were clear.  

This felt _right_ , sitting here cuddling Cas.  But Dean couldn’t get his father’s voice out of his head.  

‘ _That’s_ disgusting _, Dean!  If I_ ever _catch you kissing anyone but a girl again, I’ll-’_ John had faltered, eyeing a twelve-year-old Dean like he was the most vile thing on the planet.  ‘ _Don’t you dare make this mistake twice, boy.’_

“Dean?”  Cas’s voice pulled Dean back to the present, and the taller boy quickly wiped the sudden moisture off his face.

“Sorry, I-”

“Dean, you don’t have to answer that.”  Cas interrupted.  “And you don’t have to apologize.”  Dean looked into those bright blue eyes like they were the only thing that could keep him from running away screaming into the night.

It didn’t matter what his dad thought, his dad wasn’t here.  Dean was gathering the courage to answer when Cas gave him an escape.

“We don’t have to talk about it.”  Cas’s eyes were soft, understanding.  “We were enjoying ourselves, we should keep doing that.”

Dean nodded.  His eyes were still wide with fear.  But he could do this, he’d done this all evening.  And it _did_ feel natural, though his father would say otherwise.

Dean took a shaky breath and pulled Cas closer, whispering ‘sorry’ into the shorter boy’s ear and burying his cold face into his shoulder.  Cas wrapped an arm around Dean’s neck, his mittened fingers played with the hair sticking out of the back of his hat.

Cas tilted his head up and whispered into Dean’s ear.  “You have nothing to be sorry for, Dean.  I understand completely.”  Dean just nodded and wished he could stay in this moment for the rest of his life.

 

“Castiel, right?”  A young woman stood in front of them, her gloved hands on her hips and her feet spread slightly in a confident pose.  The two boys broke away from their embrace to look at her.

“That’s right.”  Cas said, smiling and extracting his right hand from behind Dean’s back so he could shake her hand.

“I’m Ashley.”  The girl said, and Dean recognised her as the girl who played drums with the band.  “We’ve never met, but I wanted to say you did a good job tonight, what with Michael putting you on the spot like that.”

“Thanks.”  Cas smiled warmly at her as she excused herself, flashing a quick smile at Dean before she left.

“She was nice.”  Cas commented as he wrapped his arm around Dean’s back again.

 

They only had a few moments of peace before Gabriel came by to diffuse the tension in the air.  Gabe wasted no time in curling under the covers between them, complaining about the cold and how long it took him to get out of work.  Dean smiled as the three of them fell into an easy conversation.

He’d think about Cas later.

Dean was laughing at one of Gabe’s jokes when he caught Cas’s eye and the moment stretched out.  It felt like he had a tight band around his chest, though he couldn’t say the experience was completely uncomfortable.

Dean knew what he was feeling, but he didn’t want to name it.  He’d think about it later.

 

Gabe drove Cas home, and in the process robbed Dean of the opportunity to hug Cas goodbye properly.  He sat in the driver’s seat of the Impala and watched the taillights of Gabe’s corvette disappear around the corner.

He sat until his was the only car in the parking area.

He started shivering, but refused to start the engine.  The snow had made a thick blanket over his windshield.

 

He just needed to _think_.

Dean knew what the warm and fuzzy feelings in his chest were, he knew why he couldn’t get that smile that showed off gums or those blue eyes out of his head.

 

Dean remembered his father's words again.  That he was disgusting.  

But he hadn’t felt disgusting holding Cas.  He’d felt like his heart was about to burst out of his chest, yes.  And he’d been nervous and maybe a little shy and lost for words.  But he’d felt good, sitting with Cas felt _right._

 _Dad’s not here._  He told himself.   _You make your own decisions, Dean._

There were tears on his cheeks, and he was grateful Cas had let him borrow the hat, gloves, and scarf.  He used the loose end of the scarf to wipe his face, and _oh, god._  

The scarf smelled like Cas’s cologne.  Dean smiled and didn’t hesitate to lose himself as he buried his face in the fabric.  Some disjointed part of his mind supplied that Cas had been wearing the scarf earlier, that his cologne must have rubbed off then.  But the hows didn’t matter to Dean, all that mattered was the effect the smell had on him.

 

Dean knew what he wanted.


	5. The Fall

**Thursday, January 29th**

“Castiel, are you even listening to me?”  Hanna asked crossly, almost yelling at this point.

“Yes Hanna, I’m just not sure what else there is to say.”  

Castiel was exhausted.  He hadn’t slept at all the previous night and his body felt like a cross between a pile of mush and a tightly-wound ball of stress.  He was beyond frustrated; when he had the chance to sleep, it eluded him.  Yet he could barely keep his eyes open when he was suppose to be focused on something, like the presentation of a project with Hanna that was worth a quarter of their grade.  Yes, he’d fallen asleep on his feet, but it wasn’t like he’d meant to.  And he’d apologised over a dozen times in the three hours since the incident.

Hanna let out a high-pitched, beyond-words screeching sound and stormed off to the girl’s gymnastics locker room.

Castiel shook his head slightly and retreated into the boy’s locker room before Hanna could come back and yell at him some more.  He changed into his gymnastics uniform in a daze, wanting nothing more than to skip class and go crash in the nurse’s office.

Castiel almost fell asleep again during the group stretch, only realizing he was the only gymnast left on the mat when Dean Winchester gave him a shake on the shoulder and asked if he was okay.

“I’m just tired.”  Castiel mumbled, holding out his hands so Dean could wrap them.  The taller boy sat criss-cross on the mat next to him and got started.  Dean was still new at wrapping, so it took him a few tries to get it right, but Castiel didn’t mind, he needed the few extra minutes of numb relaxation.

“Sorry, Cas.  I’m not trying to waste all your practice time.”  Dean said the second time he had to restart on Cas’s right wrist.

“It’s fine, Dean.  You need to, ah-.”  Cas yawned hugely before continuing.  “You have to learn it at some point, it might as well be today.”

Dean was quiet for several minutes while he focused on wrapping.  Castiel tried his best to keep his eyes open, but even the endearing sight of Dean with his tongue stuck out between his lips in concentration couldn’t prevent his eyelids from heavily closing.  After his wrists were wrapped and checked to make sure it wasn’t too tight, Dean gently shook his wrist by the fabric and Castiel found Dean was staring at him.  

“You don’t look so hot, Cas.  Maybe you should see the nurse.”  The taller boy’s face was swimming in front of his eyes.

Castiel sighed deeply and fought another yawn.  “I already have too many sick days, I’m going to fail the semester if I go home every time I have trouble sleeping.”  Castiel glanced around, then; ‘Where’s Gary?’

“He has that lifting competition in Minneapolis today, remember?”  Dean stood with a huff and held out his hands to pull Castiel to his feet.  “Christian is filling in for him.”

Once he was standing, Castiel spaced out for a second, his unfocused gaze somewhere near the logo on Dean’s athletic shirt.  The sensation of falling jerked him awake and he gasped in surprise as Dean caught and steadied him.  The taller boy’s face was etched with worry and he opened his mouth to speak, but Castiel shook his head and mumbled; ‘I’m going to take a few laps before we get started, okay?’

“Sounds like a good idea, I’ll grab your stuff for you.”  Dean said, he let his arms drop as Castiel turned away and started jogging.

Castiel padded barefoot around the edge of the mat so slowly he could barely call it jogging.  He tried to focus on moving his legs faster, but his limbs felt like they’d doubled in weight and he continued his slow pace until his heart rate was up and his head felt a little more clear.  He rolled his shoulders as he walked up to the rings where Dean and Christian were waiting for him.

“Let’s get started.”  Castiel said in a somewhat more alert voice, chalking his hands while Dean showed Christian where he should stand.  Castiel moved into position with the rings several feet above his head.

“Ready?”  Dean asked from behind him as he placed his hands on Castiel’s waist.

Castiel licked his lips before answering.  “Ready.”  

He couldn’t even get halfway through his routine before he slumped below the rings and called for Dean to catch him.  And of course his feet had barely touched the mat when Coach Rufus started in on him.

“What was _that_ , Castiel?”  The disappointed coach said with a raised eyebrow and his hands on his hips.

His answer came out a bit louder and angrier than he meant.  “It was  _ shit _ !  I know!  Thank you!”  Castiel turned and grabbed his water bottle, squeezing it a bit too roughly and sending water shooting out of the top.  His hands were shaking while he took a long drink.  He heard Dean making excuses and apologizing to Coach Rufus for him, then sending Christian away with a few words he didn’t catch.

Castiel stood with his back to Dean, eyes closed and his hands still shaking.  God, he felt terrible today, he’d give anything for a good night’s sleep.  He heard Dean walk up behind him and he shook his head;  _ I just need a few moments of peace, Dean _ .  Just when Castiel thought the taller boy had left him alone under the rings, he felt Dean’s large hands grip his shoulders and begin working the tension out of him.

Dean didn’t speak, and Castiel was grateful for that.  He tried not to think about anything except the way Dean’s fingers felt as they moved over his skin, pressing deep into the muscles in a slow, steady rhythm.  Castiel breathed deeply and let his shoulders droop as his frustration melted away.

After maybe half a minute, Dean softly said ‘Talk to me, Cas.’  Castiel inhaled a small gasp when Dean’s warm breath caressed the nape of his neck, his fingers continued to massage the knots out of Castiel’s shoulders.  Castiel tilted his head forward as Dean’s fingers started in along the back of his neck, his breathing slowed and he was becoming at risk of falling asleep again under Dean’s touch.

Castiel’s muddled mind finally strung some words together and he heard himself say; ‘It’s nothing, Dean.  I’m just tired.’  Dean was quiet for another short time, whether he was waiting for him to elaborate or just resigned to massaging the dark-haired boy’s back until he fell asleep on his feet, Castiel couldn’t tell.

“It’s obviously something.  I’ve never heard you cuss before, especially to a teacher.”  Dean’s voice was soft and sweet, his breath warm on the back of Castiel’s ear and neck.  Castiel let out a shaky breath as Dean’s hands slowly rubbed up and down his upper arms, he felt his skin erupt in goosebumps and he shivered into the blonde’s touch.

Castiel’s voice cracked up an octave when he answered.  “I’m just on edge.”  He cleared his throat, his embarrassment forced his eyes open and he stepped away from Dean’s hands and he turned to face him.  “I’m fine, I’m ready to try again.”

Dean’s green eyes searched his face, worry that teetered toward frustration etched into every line around his eyes and mouth.  Castiel stared back, trying to keep his face blank and his eyes off of Dean’s lips and failing at at the latter. 

“Cas, you don’t have to push yourself if you’re not feeling well.”  Dean said, and Castiel thought he saw Dean’s green eyes flickering to his lips before going back to his eyes.

Castiel sighed and he let his eyelids slip shut.  Oh, how he wished he could just curl up in his bed and let Dean keep rubbing his shoulders.  But instead he heard himself say; ‘I’m fine, Dean.  Go and get Christian, please.’

 

Dean’s eyes were guarded when he returned to the rings with Christian, his lips set in a tight line while he took his position behind Castiel.  Castiel looked up at the rings and raised his arms, jumping as soon as Dean placed his hands on his waist.

Castiel made it through the whole routine this time.  His movements weren’t flawless or even graceful by any means, but at least he made it through.  After his feet hit the mat, he turned to Dean, who was standing close with his arms still outstretched ready to assist Castiel with the landing, and suggested they move to the parallel bars.

“I’m just not feeling the rings today.”

Dean nodded, his top lip pulled back with his eyes narrowed at Christian.  Several moments passed, and Castiel waited for Dean to look at him, but the taller boy seemed to be avoiding Castiel’s eyes.  The dark-haired boy squinted at Dean and tilted his head to the side, silently challenging him.  

“Are you upset about something?”  His tone daring Dean to throw out some snarky comment.

But Dean just glanced at him and said; ‘No.  I’ll meet you at the parallel bars in two.’  Then took off at a quick walk after the fill-in spotter.

Castiel shook his head and ground his teeth to keep his eyes from watering.  Dean was such an idiot sometimes.   _ Great, first Hanna’s pissed at me and now Dean.   _ Why in heaven was Dean mad at him, anyway?  Castiel shook his head again and collected his things before storming off to the parallel bars.

 

If Castiel had been paying attention, he would have noticed the tension between his two spotters upon their return.  As it was, he only noticed that they’d been gone nearly five full minutes.

“What took you so long?”  Castiel asked as his spotter set the jump board in place.  He tried not to sound overly-accusing, but Dean’s lips were still set in an angry way when he looked up at Castiel to answer.

“It’s just this idiot over here.”  Dean’s voice was hushed as he inclined his head at Christian.  “I talked to him about it already.”  Dean absent-mindedly placed a hand on Castiel’s hip, even though the gymnast wasn’t yet in position to mount the parallel bars.  

Shock from Dean’s casual touch coursed through Castiel’s chest like electricity, he glanced down at the hand on his hip with his eyebrows raised before meeting and holding Dean’s gaze.  Dean’s hard expression softened after a moment, and Castiel felt a little breathless as he looked up at his friend.  He swallowed hard, his eyes flicking down to Dean’s lips with a blank expression on his face as he stuttered over a sentence he hadn’t realized he’d begun.

Dean smiled kindly at him and murmured; ‘Ready, Cas?’  Dean gave him a light squeeze with the hand resting on his hip.

It took all of Castiel’s concentration to find the right word.  “S-sure.”  Wrenching his eyes away from Dean’s green stare, Castiel stepped onto the jump board and tried not to focus on Dean’s hands on his waist while he made the jump.

It didn’t help that he could see Dean watching him with absolute focus throughout the routine.  Castiel had to pause at one point and re-focus before continuing.  He stuck the dismount, took a breath, and turned to see that Christian, who should have been right behind him spotting, was nowhere near him.

Dean marched right up to Christian and got in his face, voice hushed and threatening.  Castiel couldn’t hear what Dean was saying, but it obviously pissed Christian off.  Dean didn’t let Christian get a word in, though, and walked back to his side of the bars immediately after finishing his rant.

“What was that about?”  Castiel asked quietly as he took his place next to Dean.

“He’s-.”  Dean stopped, giving Christian a dirty look before changing his mind.  “Nothing, Cas.  I’ll just be glad when Gary is back.”  As much as Castiel tried, Dean wouldn’t say anything more.

Castiel began his routine again, his head still swimming with exhaustion.  He decided about thirty seconds into his routine that this would be his last go-round, he was too tired to continue.  

On a simple flip, something he’d been able to do since he was a child, his grip slipped and he fell.  Time seemed to slow as he fell through the air; Christian was too far to catch him, he knew he was going to hit the mat, hard.  Castiel only had time to close his eyes.  Before he hit the mat, he felt fingers wrap around his right wrist.  

His arm was pulled behind him as he twisted through the air.  Pain erupted from his right shoulder accompanied by a sickening popping sound.  He hit the mat on his left side, his face smashed into the padded ground and the mat pulled at his skin as he slid to a stop.

He could hear Dean swearing before his voice was drowned out by a weird, high-pitched keening noise that Castiel didn’t know he was capable of producing.  Gentle hands pulled him off the mat and into a sitting position, making Castiel gasp at the pain shooting through his right side as his dislocated arm was jostled then pinned to his side.  Blood was running down Castiel’s face and into his eyes, he tried to blink past the blood but couldn’t see anything.  Castiel held his right arm with his left, fighting a scream that was bubbling up in his chest while the same gentle hands pulled him into an embrace.

“Cas, calm down, buddy.  I’m right here.”  Dean’s panicked voice did nothing for Castiel, who finally lost control of his voice and was sobbing and moaning into the curve between Dean’s neck and shoulder.  The pain drove all coherent thought from his mind, he only knew that Dean was with him as he struggled to understand what Dean wanted him to do.  “Cas, I’m right here.  Relax your shoulders and let go of your arm.  I’ve got you, I’m right here.”  

After a few moments, Dean, gentle as could be, began to slowly rotate his arm out.  Dean put pressure on his shoulder as he forced the dislocated arm up, Castiel cried out pitifully and thought he might black out.  But before he lost consciousness there was another wet-sounding pop followed by intense relief.  Castiel held his arm to his chest and moaned gutturally into Dean’s chest.

“Cas, I know you’re hurting, but I have to move your arm around a bit.”  Dean gingerly took his arm and slowly began moving it, asking;  ‘Do your fingers feel numb?  Any sharp pain?’  After a few moments, Dean placed his arm back to his chest.

Castiel was still struggling to get a grip.  Tears mixed with the blood that dripped down his face until Dean wiped them away with gauze and Castiel could finally open his eyes.

He could see Coach Rufus shooing away a small crowd that had gathered.  Dean was crouched at his side, blood smeared onto his neck and shirt as he held Castiel close with one arm and dug through a first aid bag with the other.  

He watched wide-eyed as a set of dress shoes rushed toward him, pushing past the crowd and ignoring Coach Rufus.  The wearer crouched next to Dean and pulled Castiel’s face toward him.

“You’ve been had, kiddo.”  Gabriel said in a worried tone, releasing Castiel’s chin and turning to dig through the aid bag for wound cleaner.

“Hand me those cold packs, Gabe.”  He heard Dean saying, then felt him press a bag on the front and back of his shoulder.

Dean held Castiel to his chest while Gabriel cleaned the mat burns on his face, the tall dirty-blonde held the ice packs in place with his shoulder and arm.  Dean rubbed calming circles into his back with his free hand and Castiel wished he could bury his face into Dean’s neck again.  Castiel’s arm was slipped into a sling and the straps adjusted before he had fully gotten a hold of himself.

“Are you ready to walk, Cas?”  Dean asked, his voice low and his lips near Castiel’s ear.

“I’m okay.”  He answered shakily.

Dean and Gabriel helped Castiel to his feet and he allowed Dean to guide him off the mat and out of the gym.  As Dean led him past the bleachers, Christian tried to apologize.  

“Shove it up your ass, Christian!”  Dean shouted loud enough for the entire gym to hear.  Gabriel only just managed to put himself between Dean and Christian before things got violent.  Dean’s hands never left Castiel, though, who was leaning heavily into Dean’s side.  Gabriel and Christian’s bickering died down as Dean opened the gym door for Castiel and led him down the hall.

Dean left Castiel for only a moment on a bench in the locker room while he put a chair into a shower stall and turned on the water.  Castiel’s arm was aching so much that he couldn’t really feel embarrassed as Dean helped him undress and led him into the chair under the spray.  Dean only kicked off his socks and shoes before joining him in the shower stall.  

Castiel held his injured arm to his chest and let Dean scrub shampoo into his hair and rinse it.  As Dean gently cleaned the parts of his face that weren’t covered in scrapes, Castiel could only stare blankly at Dean’s shirt.  

“Here.”  Dean commanded as he held out a soap-covered washcloth.  Dean supported Castiel’s bad arm and deliberately stared at the wall while the dark-haired boy washed himself. 

Dean wouldn’t look at him until he had rinsed, turned off the water, and haphazardly wrapped a towel around his waist. Castiel let Dean lead him to the bench and held his arm still while Dean towel dried his hair and torso.

The strained muscles in Castiel’s shoulder made his face screw up and a whine escape his lips as they pulled his shirt on.

“Sorry, sorry, Cas.”  Dean murmured, and Castiel saw him bite down on his bottom lip.

Castiel groaned and his breathing spiked as Dean carefully slid his arm through his vest and slowly moved it back to his chest.  “It’s not your fault, Dean.”  He murmured, leaning his forehead against Dean’s stomach.  He took several deep breaths as the taller boy rubbed gentle circles into his back.

Once Dean had buttoned Castiel’s shirt and vest, he pulled away and briefly pressed his face into Castiel’s hair before retrieving the sling from Castiel’s open locker.  Castiel wondered if that had been a kiss before his thoughts were interrupted by Dean silently asking for his injured arm.  He gingerly slipped Castiel’s arm back into the sling and adjusted the straps so they would hold the now-cold ice packs in place.

“Don’t forget the ice packs are twenty minutes on, twenty minutes off.”  Dean reminded him quietly.

“I remember.”  Castiel said, giving Dean a half-hearted smile that Dean returned.

“How are you feeling?”  Dean softly asked as he used a fresh square of gauze to re-clean the mat burn on Castiel’s cheek.  “Any numb fingers?  Any sharp pain?”

“I’m okay, Dean.  It only hurts when I have to move it.”  He caught Dean’s hand with his good one and waited until Dean met his gaze.  “Thank you.”  

Dean bit his lip and Castiel saw his green eyes look him over.  “You should go home, Cas.  Take some medicine and get some rest.”  It seemed to Castiel that Dean’s hands hadn’t left him since he’d picked him up off the mat.  Between the constant touching, Castiel’s nakedness, and now Dean’s concerned stare, Castiel was starting to get a little blushed.

“I- I’m fine, Dean.  I’m good to stay, really.”

Dean gave him a look, one his mom gave him when he was being stubborn, then pulled out his phone and dialed.  

“Gabe, hey.  Yea, he’s ok.  Uh-huh.  He wants to stay, will you grab us some food?  Thanks, I’ll pay you back.”  Dean closed his phone and slipped it back into the pocket of his athletic shorts.  Dean crouched in front of Castiel again, looking intently at the scrapes on his face.  “This just doesn’t want to stop bleeding.  Let’s get you patched up.”

Castiel held still while Dean taped gauze to his cheek and forehead.  He closed his eyes and leaned to the side on his good arm, breathing deep and enjoying the way Dean’s breath felt as it hit his face.  Dean’s hands left him for only a few moments before he felt a comb moving through his hair.  He let Dean attempt to wrangle his unruly hair for several minutes, barely listening to the frustrated noises coming from the taller boy.

“Your hair is kind of impossible.”  Dean’s hand settled on the back of Castiel’s good hand, forcing the dark-haired boy’s eyes open.  “Get your pants on and you’re all set, buddy.”

Dean turned away to start packing things into Castiel’s athletic locker.  Castiel bit his lip and struggled to get his briefs, socks, and jeans on and his shirt tucked in.  He let out an exasperated sigh when he realized he just wasn’t going to be able to button up his jeans.

Luckily, Dean chose that moment to get over his awkwardness and silently offered his help.  Castiel moved his hand and bit his bottom lip as Dean’s fingers gently tugged on the front of his jeans.  As Dean slipped the button into place, Castiel mumbled a quiet ‘thanks’ and he risked glancing at Dean.  He noticed a slight pink color Dean’s cheeks and wondered if his own face was turning that shade, too.  Dean didn’t look away from his own hands as he fastened Castiel’s belt.  Castiel swallowed and his heart was hammering in his ears, and he worried for a moment that Dean would be able to hear.

“Let’s get your shoes on.”  Dean said softly.  Both boys glanced at each other and when their eyes met, Castiel couldn’t seem to look away.

Dean’s eyes seemed darker than usual, and Castiel noticed his pupils were blown wide as Dean looked into his eyes.  The taller boy’s freckles were at a sharp contrast as his cheeks blushed a deep red.  Castiel felt his cheeks heating up, and he took in a ragged gasp.  That’s weird, he hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath.

Castiel’s gasp brought Dean back to the present.  “Let’s go, Cas.”  Castiel quickly put on his shoes as Dean threw Castiel’s backpack over his own shoulder.  Dean placed a hand on the small of the shorter boy’s back and led him to a bench just outside of the trainer’s locker room.  

Dean disappeared inside, leaving Castiel to lean against the cool brick wall.  The hallway was quiet, and the cold packs on his arm were finally starting to numb his injured muscles.  Castiel slowly felt himself relaxing.

 

Castiel wasn’t completely aware of someone sitting next to him until the person wrapped their arms around him and gently pulled him into an embrace.  He didn’t have to open his eyes to know who it was; the person smelled like cheap cologne and the school’s free soap that’s supplied in all the locker rooms, along with the faint smell of leather from his jacket.  Castiel slowly blinked open his eyes, noting that Dean was back in his jeans, flannel shirt, and Aerosmith tee.

“Cas, I can take you home if you’re tired, buddy.”  Dean rubbed his back soothingly, his breath smelled like cinnamon toothpaste and Castiel breathed deeply as Dean’s breath moved across his face from somewhere near his eyebrow.  Castiel leaned into the embrace some more, resting his head on Dean’s collarbone and wrapping his good arm around the small of Dean’s back.

“I’m okay to stay, Dean.  Thank you.”  His eyelids slipped shut of their own accord.  If Dean would keep rubbing his back like this, he’d be asleep in under a minute.  The only reason he didn’t pass out with his head on Dean’s chest was the loud rumble he heard from Dean’s stomach.

Castiel sat up and chuckled.  “Are you hungry, Dean?”

“I’m starving.”  The taller boy replied shamelessly.

“Then let’s go eat.”  

Dean smiled, grabbed both of their backpacks, and ushered him out of the hall and through the main gym to the common area.  Gabriel was waiting at Castiel’s usual table with Samandriel, Sam Winchester, and three bags of food.

“What happened, Castiel?”  Samandriel asked as Castiel took an empty seat.  

“I fell.”  Castiel answered tightly, the walk from the locker rooms made his shoulder ache with every step.  Dean sat both of their backpacks on the ground and took the seat to his right.  

“I have some tylenol for you, Cas.”  Dean pulled a pill bottle from his backpack, gave Castiel two tablets and handed him a soda.  Castiel gave him a small smile and accepted the medicine.

“Actually,”  Gabriel piped up from the other side of the table, speaking past a mouthful of food.  “He almost got his arm ripped off.  I was watching from the bleachers.  That spotter was a dick and a half, he wasn’t even watching Castiel, he was ogling one of the girls.”

Dean made a face but didn’t say anything, instead unwrapping Castiel’s burger and opening ketchup packets for himself and Castiel.  Castiel grinned fondly at Dean, ignoring the conversation taking place around him as he studied Dean’s focused expression while he set up their lunches.  

After a moment, Dean met Castiel’s eyes and the two stared at each other with small smiles on their lips.  Dean reached out and placed a hand on Castiel’s back, softly trailing his palm up and down his spine.  Castiel looked down at his lunch, a blush creeping into his cheeks as he bit his bottom lip.  Dean continued to gently rub Castiel’s back while the two boys tucked into their lunch.

“Hey Dean.”  Gabriel said a few moments later with another mouthful of food, “What were you and Christian fighting about?”

Castiel looked to Dean, his mouth was set in an angry line again and his eyebrows were furrowed.  “I was telling him that he needed to focus.  He was  _ mostly _ watching Cas, but wasn’t like, stepping forward on the dismounts and stuff that you’re suppose to do.  He kept saying ‘he’ll be fine, he never falls.’”  The hand on Castiel’s back stopped rubbing and the dark-haired boy could see that Dean’s free hand was curled into a tight fist.  “I could seriously punch his teeth out right about now.”

Gabriel threw his head back in a laugh and said, “I’d pay to see that fight, Dean-O.  Christian’s been in boxing classes since elementary school.”  Gabriel grinned at Dean, but once the older Winchester looked back to his food, shot Castiel a warning glance that said;  _ don’t let him start that fight. _

Sam Winchester said something about boxers being predictable, but Dean shushed him and the younger boy fell silent.

When the bell rang, Sam and Samandriel said their goodbyes and left for class.  Gabriel murmured some half-formed excuse and left shortly after.

When they were as alone as they could be in the student commons and their lunch in their bellies, Dean finally spoke up.  

“I’m sorry, Cas.  This is all my fault.  I knew that pighead wasn’t paying attention, that’s why we were arguing.  I thought, after that last time, that he’d get it together.”  Dean’s green eyes didn’t meet Castiel’s, instead they stared down at his own lap in shame.  The tall boy still had a hand on the small of Castiel’s back and Castiel leaned into the touch to get Dean to start rubbing his back again.

“It’s not your fault, Dean, you shouldn’t apologize.”  Castiel rubbed at the itchy gauze stuck to his cheek, feeling sleepy again now that his stomach was full and the ice packs had numbed his shoulder.

“It’s completely my fault, Cas.  I shouldn’t have let you start another routine until someone competent was spotting for you.”  Dean pulled Castiel’s hand away from his cheek, softly saying ‘don’t pick at it, you’ll start bleeding again.’

And then, quite suddenly, Dean was holding his hand.  

Castiel raised his eyebrows and smiled to himself as he looked down at their hands as they rested in his lap.  Castiel’s large hand looked unusually small when curled inside Dean’s fingers.  The taller boy’s other hand was still rubbing circles into the small of his back, the rhythm soothing.  Castiel felt his heart give an unusually hard beat as their eyes met.  He absentmindedly wet his lips as he studied Dean’s soft expression, his green eyes half-lidded as he looked at Castiel.

Castiel’s eyes slid down Dean’s jaw line, noticing a soft scar near his chin and a few hairs he had missed while shaving that morning.  The corner of Dean’s lips pulled up slightly, capturing Castiel’s attention, there was a freckle just above his top lip that was darker than the rest, and Castiel felt the urge to press his lips against it.

“Well,”  Castiel said, trying to articulate despite the moment he was having.  “If you insist on blaming yourself, then I forgive you.  Don’t let it happen again.”

A touch of a smile crinkled Dean’s eyes, Castiel glanced down again to look at Dean’s lips pulled up in a small, uneven grin.  Castiel thought his heart might actually explode at the sight.

“I still say you should go home, Cas.  You need to rest, going to class won’t do you any favors.”  Dean paused, his eyes glancing around them before once again resting on Castiel.  “Besides, you said you were tired, I don’t think anyone would have a problem with you going home.”

Honestly, now that he was clean and full of food and holding hands with  _ Dean Friggin’ Winchester _ , Castiel felt it would be a disservice to himself to go home.  He looked into Dean’s eyes, heart racing as he studied each swirl and fleck in their pear-green depths and feeling amazed by the ring of gold that surrounded the outermost edge of the irises.  He lost his train of thought while he look wide-eyed at Dean, only noticing the smile lines when they crinkled the corners of the taller boy’s eyes.

“What do you think?”  Dean asked, another small smile on his lips.

“About what?”  Castiel asked, barely listening as he switched his focus to memorizing the freckles on Dean’s nose.  Dean laughed and squeezed Castiel’s hand, making Castiel’s heart skip a beat.  Castiel smiled softly as he thought that he absolutely  _ loved  _ the way Dean was looking at him.

Dean’s eyes slid to the side, he looked just past Castiel’s head and the taller boy suddenly adopted a murderous expression.  The abrupt change made Castiel’s breath stall and his stomach flip uncomfortably.  Castiel turned in his seat, following Dean’s gaze as Dean’s hand was ripped from his own.  Dean stood from the table and marched past Castiel to block Christian from coming any closer to the dark-haired boy.

“I just want to apologize,”  Christian was saying before Dean shoved him forcefully in the chest, making him take several steps back.

“I don’t give a shit, boy!”  Dean said loudly.  Castiel gasped as he scrambled out of his seat, he rushed forward and pulled on Dean’s arm with his good hand.  

“I’ll make sure you’re kicked off the baseball team for this, you no-good sack of dicks!”  Dean was shouting now, and people were starting to form a wide circle in preparation for a fight.  Castiel remembered what Gabriel had said about Christian being a good boxer and felt his heart rate quicken.  He didn’t want Dean to get hurt for him!

Dean had a hand on Christian's chest, his other arm held slightly back at a weird angle from being fruitlessly pulled on by Castiel.  The two huge boys squared off, their angry faces inches from each other. 

“Dean, Dean, let’s not do this.  We’re right in front of the office.”  Castiel begged and pulled harder on Dean’s arm, though he knew he couldn’t begin to move the angry boy who stood seven inches taller than him and outweighed him by a good seventy pounds.  

His words seemed to get through to Dean, though, and he slowly took a step back from Christian, who immediately turned and stomped off.  Dean let out a shaky breath and turned to face Castiel, returning his hand to the small of his back.  Castiel grabbed Dean’s free hand and lead him back to the table.

“Sorry, Cas.  I could just beat that jackass’s face in right now.”  Dean’s hands and voice were shaking from the adrenaline.  The shorter boy said nothing as Dean took another shaky breath and started cleaning up their mess from lunch.  

“It’s okay, Dean.  Don’t be mad at Christian, these things happen sometimes.”  Castiel knew he was lying, he’d never heard of a gymnast being hurt because a spotter hadn’t been paying attention.  Dean seemed to sense his fib, he made a dismissing noise as he walked away to throw out their trash.

The two stayed at their table through the period.  Dean continued to rub Castiel’s back and one good shoulder and worry over his well-being.  Castiel reveled in the attention and tried to identify the strange pressure blooming in his rib cage.  The longer they sat together, both boys staring into the other’s eyes as they talked on inconsequential but happy topics, the more obvious the pressure became.

Castiel had had crushes in the past, like Aaron Jones on the football team or Forest Holloway on the school’s debate team.  But he’d never had a crush that also turned out to be gay.  Sioux Falls was a small town and not the most tolerant of places to be an openly gay young man, it made dating difficult, so much so that Castiel had never even held hands before today.

He felt incredibly lucky to have found Dean Winchester, even if he was still in the closet.

 

Gabriel showed just before the bell rang, cheeks pink and out of breath but seemingly in better spirits than when he left.  When questioned, he’d just say ‘you’ll see.’

Dean carried Castiel’s backpack to exchange books at his locker and all the way to his AP Chemistry class, holding a hand on Castiel’s back or good shoulder the entire time.

“I’ll be here to carry your backpack after class, so don’t take off too quick.”  Dean said, gently hanging the straps of Castiel’s backpack onto his good arm.  “And don’t you dare take your arm out of the sling or carry your bag on your back.  Take it easy.”

“Of course, Dean.”  Castiel said, a small smile on his lips as he looked up at him.

Dean gave his good shoulder a light squeeze and the two took a moment to look fondly at each other before Dean walked away.  Castiel watched his retreating form with a smile on his lips, his mind absolutely reeling over the new development between them.

Castiel hurried into the classroom and took his seat.  He fished his cell out of his pocket and tried to be discreet about texting during class.  It took him a little longer than normal, since he was texting one-handed and with his non-dominant hand, but a few minutes later, he hit send.

His text to Charlie read:   **You won’t BELIEVE what just happened.  Meet me at the usual place at 1:10 sharp!**

He checked his phone at 1:04, a text from Charlie read:   **Roger that!  :)**

Five minutes later, Castiel asked to be excused for the restroom and all but ran to the server room next door to the computer lab.  Charlie was waiting for him, her eyes wide when she saw Castiel’s sling and gauze bandages.

Castiel quickly told her what happened in Gymnastics, in the locker room, and during lunch, ending with Dean walking him to class.  By the end, her mouth was hanging open.

“Dean  _ Winchester _ ?”  She asked, shaking her hands excitedly.

“I know.”  Castiel felt like he may never stop smiling.

“He helped you shower?  How was that?”  Charlie grabbed Castiel’s good arm and gave him a serious look.  “Did he look?”  The implication was obvious.

“No way, he was an absolute gentleman.”  Castiel felt his cheeks get warm at his friend’s insinuation. 

“What.  The.  Hell.”  Charlie said, her hands going to her forehead like it would help clear her mind, her smile stretching from ear to ear.  “Dean Winchester and Castiel Mills.  I’m so happy for you!”  She jumped a little on the spot and squealed in delight, grabbing Castiel’s good arm and bringing it along for the ride.

Castiel squeezed her hand, waiting to speak until she met his eyes.  “Charlie, don’t go spreading this around, I don’t want to scare him off.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

 

Castiel returned to class a little flushed, thinking about what Charlie said about the shower.  He was thankful his mind hadn’t been where Charlie’s would have been in that situation.  He had an overactive imagination at the best of times, and in the heat of the moment, he didn’t think he would’ve had the control to keep things from growing if those thoughts had occurred to him.

During the five minute break between chemistry and the lab, Castiel checked his phone.  He had one message from Charlie that made him smile and blush again, it read:   **Valentine’s Day is right around the corner!! So is the dance! <3**

Castiel’s teacher insisted he sit out of chem lab, saying the gauze on his face was a fire hazard.  He spent the half hour doing the e-lab on the computer, counting down the minutes until the next class.

Dean was waiting in the hallway for him.  Castiel gave him a big smile that was returned earnestly with a ‘hey, Cas!’ as Dean lifted Castiel’s backpack out of his hand.  The two chatted easily as they walked, Dean stood on Castiel’s right with a hand on his upper back, making sure no one bumped Castiel’s injured arm in the crowded hallway.

Once they took their seats in ethics, Dean pulled two new ice packs out of his jacket pocket and fitted them under the straps of the sling.  “How’s your arm?”

“Fine, just a little sore.”  Castiel held still while Dean messed with his sling.

“You should probably take more painkillers after this class.”  Castiel smiled and let Dean fuss over him.

 

A thought occurred to Castiel as Dean walked him to choir.  “Dean, you’re not being extra nice to me because you feel responsible for me falling, are you?”

Dean’s green eyes searched his face before the taller boy answered.  “That’s part of it, yeah.  But still, I’d carry your bag for you even if it wasn’t my fault.”

_ Not what I meant, _ Castiel thought, thinking of the hand that was currently curved along the small of his back.

Luckily, none of Castiel’s brothers saw Dean enter the choir room with him.  If Michael or Lucifer saw the two of them standing together, especially with the broad smiles on both of their faces and Dean’s hands lingering on the shorter boy, Castiel would have never heard the end of it.

 

Dean waited for him after choir and walked him to the turf room, the taller boy insisting that he stay in his normal clothes for the last hour.  “You won’t be able to wrap any ankles today, anyway.  Changing shirts constantly will just aggravate your shoulder.”  Coach Rufus and Singer thought Dean was right, so Castiel resigned to follow Coach Singer around in his jeans and button-up.

Dean hadn’t been gone for a full minute when the twins found Castiel sitting behind a huge pile of pole vaulting mats and started in on him.  

“Why’s Winchester walking you to class and carrying your backpack, shorty?”  Lucifer asked, standing over him with Michael at his side.

“My arm’s in a sling, if you didn’t notice.”

“How’s that his problem?”  Michael asked, in a less joking tone than Lucifer’s.

Castiel looked up at his brothers with fire in his eyes.  “Don’t you two mess with him for being nice to me.  Dad wouldn’t approve.”

“You’re going to pull the dad card?”  Lucifer asked, feigning offence that was kind of ruined by the smirk on his face.  The two of them only left Castiel alone once Coach Singer blew his whistle to start practice.  Castiel tried not to openly stare at Dean during athletics, but made sure to keep a close enough eye on him so that he would see if either of the twins were messing with him.

 

After Dean had changed back into his normal clothes, he carried Castiel’s backpack out to the car.  The two stopped just inside the breezeway to zip up their coats, Dean had to help Castiel zip his slinged arm into the body of his coat and held out one of Castiel’s gloves so he could put it on.  The two smiled softly at each other as Dean pulled Castiel’s hat over his wild hair, the taller boy taking care to tug the fabric down over Castiel’s ears.  

The temperature had dropped below freezing early in the afternoon and snowflakes were blowing around on the breeze.  Castiel walked close to Dean with his head down against the wind as they made their way through the parking lot.  He slipped once on the ice, Dean’s hands caught him around his waist before he hit the pavement and pulled him to his feet.  Dean didn’t let go of Castiel again until he was safely tucked into the passenger seat of Gabriel’s corvette.

“Look at the little jackass.”  Gabriel said as Dean handed Castiel his seatbelt.  Castiel’s brother was pointing a few cars away at Christian as he struggled in the cold to get a thick layer of clear plastic off his car.  

“Saran wrapped, filled to the sunroof with shredded paper from the environment club’s storage room,  _ and  _ his breaks are wired to the horn.”  Gabriel waited until he had Dean and Castiel’s attention.  “Guys, his dad’s an accountant, they’re going to have to take it into the shop to undo the horn brake.”

“Remind me not to get on your shit list, Gabe.”  Dean said, grinning at the brothers and giving a slightly longer, softer look at Castiel before saying goodbye and making his way across the parking lot to his own car.  Castiel watched him go, feeling warmth in his chest that had nothing to do with the car’s heater or his coat.  He could feel a blush creeping into his cheeks and could practically hear his heart pounding behind his ribs.

“Dad called, he’s meeting you at the doctor’s office in twenty minutes.”  Gabriel said as he pulled the car out of the parking lot and headed in the opposite direction of their house.  “Tell the doc you fell because you haven’t slept in a month, maybe he’ll give you something this time.”

“He’d say it’s ‘just a phase’ and I need to express my ‘budding emotions’ in a more constructive way.”  Castiel said acidly, using finger quotations to recount what his doctor had said the first time he’d brought up his insomnia.

“He’s a quack, that’s for sure.”  Gabriel said lightheartedly as he pulled up to the doors of the clinic.  “Give ‘em hell.”

 

Castiel’s dad was waiting for him on the biggest couch in the waiting room.  “How was your day, kiddo?”

“I’ve had better.”  Castiel said lightly, unzipping his coat and taking a seat next to Chuck.  “But I’ve also had worse, so there’s that.”

Chuck brushed the snow off of his son’s coat, asking ‘What happened?’

Castiel sighed, “I fell off the parallel bars during gymnastics.  I had a fill in spotter for Gary and he wasn’t paying attention, but he still tried to catch me and pulled my arm out of socket.  The other spotter, Dean, popped it back into place.”  

No need to add the dozen other things that Dean the spotter had done for him that day.  The thought put a small smile on his face, and he ducked his head so his father wouldn’t see.  Dean had really gone above and beyond his duty at a spotter for him today, that was a good sign, no matter which way he looked at it.

Chuck made a sympathetic face and patted Castiel on his good shoulder, chuckling.  “Well, the six of you boys have managed to stay out of the doctor’s office and hospitals for a solid month, I guess we were overdue for a visit.”

 

That night, Castiel took his medicine and crawled into bed early, especially exhausted after his hectic day.  His parents hadn’t left him alone for a moment, fussing over his arm and not giving him a chance to sit and think.

The warm, glowing sensation that had appeared in his chest during lunch hadn’t gone away yet, and he let himself smile into the darkness of his bedroom while he thought about Dean.  

_ He’d be a good boyfriend. _  Castiel decided, remembering how natural it had felt being close to Dean while the taller boy had walked him to his classes.  How easily Dean had wrapped a hand around his waist and pulled him in for a hug with nothing but an eyebrow wiggle and a light hearted grin.  

Castiel hugged his chest with his one good arm and had to bite his lip to prevent a bubble of laughter to explode out of him.  He couldn’t completely contain his mirth, and wound up giggling silently into his pillow.

He thought he’d be more nervous at the idea of his first boyfriend, but instead, he felt strangely giddy.  It seemed silly to worry about things like holding hands, kissing, or going on dates when everything had been so natural and easy today.

_ I can do this,  _ he thought, a smile still stretching his lips even though his cheeks were beginning to hurt.

_ This is it, _ he thought next.   _ Dean is it. _

 

He fell into a deep sleep not long after, courtesy of hydrocodone. 


	6. Poor Decisions are Blonde

**Thursday, February 5th**

 

It had been one week since Castiel Mills fell during gymnastics and wound up with a dislocated shoulder.  He had spent the week with his arm in a sling, and Dean Winchester had been just as attentive as he had that first day.  The taller boy carried Castiel’s backpack to every class, kept a hand on his back, and stood on Castiel’s right in the hallways so no one would bump into his injured shoulder.  Dean had even made it a point to hug him and press a kiss into his hair before saying goodbye in the parking lot at the end of each day, though they hadn’t held hands again since that first time last Thursday at lunch.  Castiel was on cloud nine the morning he left his sling folded in his sock drawer, hopefully never to be worn again.

Castiel was nervous but determined during the car ride to school that morning.  This was it, today was the day.  He was finally freed from that stupid sling and he was ready to do the thing he and Charlie had been planning since Saturday afternoon.  Today after school, Castiel was going to catch Dean Winchester before he left and ask him to be his date to the Valentine’s Day Dance.

The dark-haired sophomore was nervous, of course, and he was sure to be a stuttering mess when it came time to ask Dean.  But already he couldn’t blame himself for being nervous, it was like his mom told him, you’re only going to be nervous if you really like the person.

 

Thursday morning was going about the same as every day of the previous week.  Dean greeted Castiel in the parking lot and had a mini celebration with him over his healed shoulder before walking with him into the school.  Though neither of them mentioned it, Dean still walked Castiel to all of his classes and gave him a one-armed hug or a pat on the back before leaving for his own class.  The two stole around a million glances at each other during Dean’s wrestling class while Castiel checked his math and history homework on the bleachers.  Dean had to leave Castiel at the end of the math hallway so he could rush across the length of the school to get to his physics class before the bell rang, but the two made up for it in their next class, English.

Not even a negative nancy like Professor Metatron could keep Dean and Castiel from side-eyeing each other during his lecture, though they resisted talking, no need to push the man into an early coronary.  When two student council members barged into their classroom halfway through the period to hand out the first of the valentines, Castiel sat up straight in his desk and could feel himself blushing.

Castiel side-eyed Dean as the taller boy was handed a rose.  The dirty blonde turned a delicate shade of pink and his lips were pressed into a tight line as he tried to keep a smile off his face.  Castiel had to fight back a nervous giggle when he realized he was probably wearing the same expression as Dean.  He watched as the dirty-blonde pinched a little tag that hung from the stem of the flower, and Castiel smiled as Dean’s face turned a shade darker.

Once the attention had switched to the next person to receive a rose, Dean risked turning to Castiel with a questioning look on his face.

“What does it say?”  Castiel asked, trying to get his grin under control.  He was just teasing Dean at this point, he knew exactly what the note said, he was the one who wrote it.

“It’s just a little heart.”  Dean was keeping his voice low.  Castiel leaned to his right to look at the tag as Dean held the flower out for him to see the note.

“Somebody likes you.”  He commented, smiling and eyeing the rose on Dean’s desk.  Dean laughed nervously, his blush growing steadily darker.  Castiel smiled at his hands folded on his desk and bit his bottom lip.  His heart was doing a samba in his chest and it was making him blush even harder.  One of the student council kids called Dean’s name again, and Castiel looked up just in time to see Dean being handed a second rose.

Dean’s eyebrows shot up as he accepted the second valentine and flipped the little tag over to read the writing.  Castiel’s stomach dropped and his heart was hammering double time as Dean screwed up his face at the writing on the tag.  He kept his eyes down as he slowly set the rose on his desk next to the first one.

 

 

Castiel was in full panic mode by the end of the period.  After Dean received his roses, there had been no more flirty side glances shared between the two.  Instead, Dean had studiously taken notes and kept his head down.  Castiel racked his brain, trying to think of a single guy Dean knew who would want to send him a valentine besides himself.

Try as he might, Castiel couldn’t sit with an unusually stoic Dean during the passing period between their English and composition periods.  The dark haired boy excused himself and took refuge in the boy’s restroom.  Castiel wet a paper towel and pressed it to the back of his neck, desperately trying to think of who could have sent a rose to Dean.  

 _Maybe a guy in one of his junior-level classes?_  Dean hadn’t mentioned any guy to Castiel.  Though he could think of plenty of reasons why Dean wouldn’t want to disclose that information with him, considering the past week they’d had.  

 _Calm down, calm down._  He chanted to himself in the mirror, biting his lip and staring wide-eyed at his pale reflection.   _This doesn’t change anything, this mystery boy isn’t the one getting walked to classes and eating lunch with Dean every day.  He doesn’t mean anything to Dean._  Castiel had to believe that his friend was only acting weird because he was surprised by whatever had been written on the tag of the second rose, not because he actually liked that person back.

 _Dean likes_ you, _Castiel._  He thought firmly as he walked back to English.   _He’s spending his time with_ you, _not some mystery boy._

When Castiel returned to class, Dean was holding the tag from the second valentine and frowning it at darkly.  Castiel bit his tongue and stared at the top corner of the white board for a few seconds before he just couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“So, what’s the note say?”  His voice was pitched higher than normal from his anxiety, but he couldn’t control it and he didn’t care.

Dean shook his head and crushed the little note between his fingers.  “It’s nothing, Cas.”

 

**To:  Charlie Bradbury**

**Message:** May-frikkin-day!  Meet at the usual spot ten minutes after class starts!

 

Castiel walked alone to class for the first time in over a week, his stomach twisted uncomfortably the whole time.

 

He met Charlie in the server room, the blinking lights and gentle ‘whirring’ of the computer fans only set his teeth more on edge.

“What do you mean, Castiel?”  Charlie demanded.  “Tell me word-for-word!”

“That’s just it, he didn’t say anything.  He just grabbed his backpack and left English without me.  I walked to history by myself.”  Castiel had to fight back tears.  Today was suppose to be _his_ day, but it was quickly turning to shit.

“And he didn’t say anything about the other valentine?”

“He said ‘it’s nothing, Cas.’”

“It’s okay, it’s okay.”  Charlie soothed as she took in Castiel’s expression.  “We just have to be a little more proactive.  You’re going to see him in gymnastics next period, there’s no way he can avoid you.  Ask him to the dance as soon as you see him.”

“Charlie, I-”

“If you ask him, he _will_ say yes, Castiel!  He likes you.  I know it’s not how we planned it but the sooner you ask him the less you’ll have to worry about whoever sent him the other valentine.”  Castiel wasn’t convinced, but he’d already spent a third of the class period in the server room and would get in trouble if he stayed longer, so he accepted Charlie’s advice and headed back to class.

 

 

Castiel really, _really_ didn’t want to ask Dean to the dance while wearing his skin-tight gymnastics singlet, and had to focus to control his breathing while he stretched with the group.  Castiel’s eyes scanned the room for Dean while Gary wrapped his wrists, but his second spotter wasn’t in the gym.

Dean rushed to the rings shortly after Gary had texted him for the fifth time.  He pulled on his tee shirt as he entered the gym and promptly apologized for being late.  Castiel thought he looked in a bit of a better mood, and gave the dirty-blonde boy a hesitant smile that was returned with gusto.

Relief made his shoulders slump and Castiel felt one hundred percent better after that.  Whatever the confusion or miscommunication there had been concerning the rose, Dean must have cleared it up.  Why else would he be back to his normal, enthusiastic self?

 

 _Maybe I don’t need to jump the gun._  Castiel thought after gymnastics, as he changed back into his jeans and button-up.   _I’ll stick to the plan.  Charlie’s right, I’m sure Dean wants to go with me, not some random boy he’s barely spent any time with._  Castiel walked out of the dressing room with his head held high, confident that all was well and his original plans for this afternoon were the right course of action.

Coach Rufus caught him before he’d gotten more than ten feet into the hall.  “Hey Castiel, would you mind putting this in the storage room?”  The man held out a bag of chalk from the gym.

“No problem, Coach.”  Castiel was careful to hold the chalk away from his body.  He didn’t want his jeans stained white when he asked Dean to the dance.

Castiel was so concerned with keeping the chalk bag held an appropriate distance from his clothes that he didn’t notice that there were already two people in the storage room.   He froze when he finally saw them, his shoes glued themselves to the floor halfway into the small room as the door quietly shut behind him.

The couple had their lips locked in a furious and breathy make-out session.  The guy had his back to Castiel and was pressing his body against his partner.  Castiel could hear him moaning quietly into the girl’s kiss.  The blonde girl was leaning back against a set of shelves with the fingers of one hand gripping the hair on the back of his head.  Her other hand, Castiel’s eyes widened, _yup,_ her other hand was moving in the front of the guy’s gym shorts in a familiar, steady rhythm.  Castiel felt his cheeks get warm.  

Neither of them had noticed him, and he was just about to quietly slip back into the hallway when he finally recognised the lovers.

Castiel felt a flash of heat run up his spine.  Dean Winchester stood with his back to Castiel.  And the girl, though he couldn’t completely see her face, he recognised as the blonde drummer from the bonfire who’d made it a point to tell Castiel he’d done well at playing piano and singing with the band.

His ears felt oddly pressurized.  He needed to pinch himself.  This couldn’t _actually_ be happening right now, because Dean Winchester had spent all week doting on _him._  He was suppose to ask Dean to the dance that day.  And Castiel just _knew_ that Dean was going to say yes, even if Dean wasn’t really out about which cup of tea he preferred!  

He knew Dean would say yes because he’d been treating Castiel like nobody had ever treated him before, like he _liked_ him, and like he _wanted_ him.  With every single glance, blush, smile, or touch to Castiel’s back, or when Dean would press a kiss into his hair and hold him close at the end of every school day told him _without a doubt_ that Dean liked him.

Castiel hadn’t even considered he’d been wrong or that he’d misinterpreted Dean’s intentions.  They’d been so clear, and Dean had been so _perfect._ Why would Dean have treated Castiel like that if he was into women?

It wasn’t sadness that felt like it was ripping a hole in his chest, though he could feel a swirl of anguish inside him.  It shot a chill through his back and numbed his limbs, and for a moment he felt like his knees were about to give.  He fought it, though.  He didn’t want to let Dean know what this was going to do to him, what this was already doing to him.

And the pain in his chest wasn’t self-pity.  Though he couldn’t keep the thought of _just how stupid was he for thinking Dean wanted him_ out of his head.   _What had he been thinking?_  Why the _hell_ would Dean Winchester want Castiel Mills?  He was nothing but a friendless loser who had ate lunch alone every day until Dean had come along.  Dean was everything Castiel wasn’t.  And Castiel had wanted him, oh god, how he’d wanted him.  Now he knew, though.  Castiel would never be good enough for someone like Dean.

It wasn’t sadness, it wasn’t self-pity, it was white-hot anger that ripped through his torso.  In that moment, seeing the object of his affections getting jerked off by some two-bit _tramp_ in a fucking _storage closet_ , Castiel felt he could have punched through a brick wall.  Yes, sadness, agony, and despair were weights on his limbs, and self-pity and doubt were crippling his brain and slowing his thought process.  But his rage was a fire in his muscles and magma in his veins, a rope to cling to so he wouldn’t drown in his own worthlessness, an explosion in his chest that made his ribs feel like they were breaking, and the spark that brought words to his lips without his permission.

He didn’t speak, he didn’t shout, Castiel _roared_ at Dean.  He didn’t even attempt to keep himself in check because how could Dean do this to him?  How _dare_ he do this to him?

“What the _fuck_ are you doing?”  His voice was so loud, it was hurting his own ears.  

Two heads whipped around to face him, two pairs of eyes widened, and two hands jerked out from under clothing.  The girl’s hand left the confines of Dean’s shorts, leaving the material tented in the front in a way that made Castiel’s eyes burn with the threat of tears.  Dean’s hand slid out from under the girl’s shirt, his arm had made an outline that led to her breast, and Castiel had to scrabble at his figurative rope to keep from drowning in worthlessness when he realized why he’d never be good enough for Dean.

“Oh, Cas, um.”  Dean stammered, but Castiel was already talking over him, his voice like the crash of thunder, drowning out all other sounds.

“How _dare_ you!”  Castiel’s feet were moving, taking him closer to Dean.  His arms were shaking, his hands balled into fists, and he felt he wasn’t in control of _anything_ anymore.  He wasn’t thinking about what he was screaming, either.

“You lead me on for _weeks_ and this is how I find out?  What the _fuck!”_ Someone was bound to come running if he didn’t lower the volume, but Castiel couldn’t find it in him to care.

Dean was babbling, sounding much too innocent for the situation.  “Cas!  Cas, calm down, I can explain!”

“I don’t want _anything_ from you!”

He must have gotten too worked up, because he lost himself for a moment.  The next thing Castiel knew, sharp bolts of pain were originating from the knuckles on his right hand and Dean’s head had snapped to the side from the force of Castiel’s punch.

Castiel’s eyes widened and his breath caught in his throat.  His anger evaporated as he realized what he’d done, leaving him numb with shock.  He couldn’t seem to take a breath and his arms fell down to his sides, useless.

A trickle of blood escaped Dean’s nostril.  Castiel was slightly horrified at himself as he watched Dean smear his fingers in it and pull his hand away to look at the blood.  

Suddenly there was anger in Dean’s eyes that matched what Castiel had just been feeling.  Dean drew himself to his full height and quicker than Castiel could follow, much less dodge, he grabbed the dark-haired boy by the scruff of his shirt and sweater-vest.

Dean yanked him forward, snapping Castiel’s head back and lifting him completely off his feet.  As he hung in the air Castiel met Dean’s eyes, their usually light, friendly green were almost brown for how dark they were.  His normally kind face was now a mask, terrifying and fierce, that made Castiel’s breath catch and made him want to run and never stop.  A bolt of fear shot through his chest, making his ribs hurt in a whole new way and his muscles spasmed as he gripped Dean’s arms and tried to wrench his clothes out of Dean’s grasp.

It made him feel like he might vomit, how intimidating Dean was.  As much as Castiel struggled or pushed on Dean’s arms, the taller boy wouldn’t budge.  Castiel’s feet were still in the air, his legs oscillated between jerking back to get some momentum to struggle out of Dean’s grasp and stretching out to try to find the floor with his toes.

Castiel felt very small, being held up by his collar by a boy who _towered_ over him even with his feet off the floor.  Dean all but growled with every breath and Castiel could feel Dean’s breath on his face.  Once, the feeling of Dean’s warm breath swirling over his skin had calmed him and made him feel light, like he could fly.  Now, though, it made his stomach flip and his heart race as panic began to set in.  He couldn’t get away.  In this moment, Dean was the most terrifying person Castiel had ever met.  Castiel’s eyes were wide and his breathing quick and erratic as Dean’s right hand left his shirt.

Dean was still holding Castiel up, the smaller boy’s toes were barely touching the floor and he used that small amount of purchase to try to get away.  Dean raised his right hand in a fist.  Castiel was shaking, he could feel his lip trembling as his eyes darted back and forth between Dean’s face and fist.  He wondered briefly if the ring on Dean’s finger would hurt very, _very_ much, but then decided that getting punched by Dean, who was literally holding Castiel’s entire body weight with one hand, would hurt no matter what.

When Dean pulled his arm back, preparing to strike the dark-haired boy, Castiel screwed his eyes shut and a whimper escaped him.

“Please, Dean!  Don’t!”  His words were just a whisper as he flinched and his fingers dug into the hand that was holding him up.

The anticipated pain and sharp snap of his head swiveling never came.  Castiel didn’t dare open his eyes and continued to hide his face into the hand that was holding him up as best as he could.  He gasped as he was thrown, his feet literally left the ground again, across the room.  

Castiel cried out when he hit the brick wall, he felt the back of his head connect and his eyesight was swimming for a moment until he blinked and his vision was restored.  He scrambled to sit up, keeping his back against the wall and his eyes on Dean as he waited for the taller boy to punch or kick or hurt him in some way.  But the pain never came, and Dean didn’t move any closer to him.

“Get out.  Now.”  Dean’s voice wasn’t the one Castiel knew, it was hard, cold, and deadly.  

Castiel could barely look the boy in the eyes, his brain struggled to unscramble and he forced his dead legs to _move._  He fumbled dumbly with the door handle for a second before he pulled himself off his ass and raced down the athletics hall to the parking lot.

 

 

**\--  --**

 

 

It was ridiculous, but Dean’s hand was visibly shaking as he took the rose the too-eager student council nerd held out to him.  Dean blamed it on the fact that the kid called out his name to the entire room and he just _knew_ that every eye in the class was focusing on him.  Still, he’d never been given a rose before, or a valentine of any kind, and had to fight to keep a smile from spreading across his face.  There was a little tag on a string hanging from the stem of the rose, Dean pinched it between his still shaking fingers and turned it over.  

He must have been expecting a name, and he knew which name he was hoping for, but instead only a nearly-perfect heart drawn in black ink marked the tag.  Dean’s eyes scanned the room discreetly, making sure the class’s focus had switched to whichever other student was receiving a rose before he turned his face towards Castiel Mills.

An appealing swirl of red flushed on his cheeks, and Dean could tell he was fighting back a smile, his gorgeous blue eyes were crinkled in his mirth.

“What does it say?”  Cas asked him quietly.

“It’s just a little heart.”  He replied, holding the rose and the tag out so his friend could take a look.  Cas leaned toward him, wafting the subtle scent of his cologne Dean’s way, and clicked his tongue.

“Somebody likes you.”  The dark-haired boy said with a grin as he straightened up in his seat.  Dean couldn’t help the nervous bubble of laughter that escaped his lips when he thought he saw Cas bite his bottom lip as he glanced down at his desk.

He could hardly believe his luck, he’d gotten a rose for valentine’s day and he’d bet the damn _impala_ that Castiel Mills was the one who’d sent it to him.  He was on cloud nine at the thought, and his eyes kept searching Cas’s face for some clue that he was wrong, that Cas hadn’t been the one to send it.  But with how deeply the dark-haired boy was blushing, Dean knew he had to be correct.  Dean couldn’t keep his poker face on any longer, he was smiling so broadly at Cas that his cheeks were hurting.  He was just about to thank Cas for the valentine, he had to let him know that he appreciated the flower and that Cas shouldn’t be embarrassed for sending it, when the the student council nerd was in front of his desk again.

“And Dean again!”  The nerd exclaimed, drawing Dean’s eyes away from the dark-haired boy to his left.  Dean’s hand didn’t shake as he accepted a second rose.  This one also had a note, Dean had to pinch the little scrap of paper between his fingers and hold the rose close to read the miniscule print.

 

**_Be my dance partner, Valentine?_ **

**_\--Ashley_ **

 

Dean furrowed his eyebrows at the name.  Who the hell is Ashley?  Dean’s eyebrows were still pulled together as he placed the rose on his desktop when Professor Metatron called for attention and continued with his lecture.

 

Dean pondered on why the name Ashley sounded familiar to him for the rest of English and for the entirety of composition.  When Cas asked about the second flower Dean wasn’t even listening to his answer.  Dean didn’t realize he’d forgotten to walk Cas to his next class until he was already sitting beside Sam and Alfie in home ec.

 _Damn it!_  He thought, sitting up suddenly and looking at the clock.  Cas would already be in class by now.  If Dean left right now, he’d do nothing but make himself late, even if he ran the whole way.  

He chewed on his lip for a second, wondering if he should go anyway, to apologize to Cas and let him know that walking the younger boy had just slipped his mind.  Dean sighed and leaned back against his workstation.  No, he shouldn’t make a scene, but he’d have to make it up to Cas somehow.  If they made food this period he would make some extra and bring it to his friend for lunch.

Thoughts of Cas went to the back of Dean’s mind as the teacher called for class to begin, giving them instructions on no-bake cookies.  Dean and the two Sams had just started gathering their ingredients when a sporty, _hot_ blonde girl walked up to their table and started talking to Dean like he knew her.

“How are you, Dean?”  Her eyes were a dull blue compared to Cas’s, but her smile was perfectly charming.

“Uh, I’m good, thanks.”  Dean half-smiled awkwardly.  “Sorry, do I know you?”

The girl laughed like she thought Dean was really witty.  “Sorry, yea.  Well, kinda.  We met briefly at the senior bonfire last month.  I played drums in the Mills twin’s band.”

A light bulb went off in Dean’s head and a real smile found it’s way onto his face.  “Oh!  Right, hi!  Sorry,”  He laughed nervously, but she was still smiling at him, so he guessed he was already forgiven.  “In my defense you did look pretty familiar.”

She laughed again.  “That’s all right, Dean!”  She held out a hand, and Dean shook it without hesitation.  “It’s nice to properly meet you, I’m Ashley.”

“Ashley?”

“Uh-huh.  Did you get my valentine?  I know they hand them out in the English classes.”

Dean shoved his brother off his arm, muttering ‘just read the recipe, Sammy.’  He grinned at Ashley.  “Sorry ‘bout him.  Uh, yea.  I did get your flower.”

She raised her eyebrows expectantly.  “And?  What do you say?”

Dean gave her a quizzical look.  “About what?”

She laughed again and shook her head at him.  “About going to the dance with me.”

“Oh!”  Dean exclaimed, feeling foolish.  “Ah, yea, actually, I uh-”  He hesitated.  He didn’t have a date, but with the way the past week had been going, Dean had hoped that either Cas would ask him or he’d find the guts to ask Cas.  Dean wasn’t sure if Cas liked him, but the dark-haired boy _had_ paid six bucks for a single rose for him.  And even if Cas didn’t _like_ like him, Dean thought they would have fun at the dance together regardless.

“Do you already have a date?”  Her eyes narrowed at his hesitation.

“Well, no, it’s just that-”

“Dean.”  She said, stepping into his personal space and lowering her voice so only Dean could hear her.  “I didn’t just want a date to _the dance_.  I already have a hotel room booked for that night.”

Dean’s mind blanked.  His eyebrows shot up into his hair and he blinked several times in quick succession.  “A hotel room?”  Stupid.  His voice had shot up an octave in his surprise.

Ashley fluttered her eyelashes at him slightly.  “Uh-huh.  And I’d really like if you’d go to the dance with me, Dean.”

Maybe Dean wasn’t thinking, maybe he was only thinking of one thing.  She was hot, she was a senior, she was basically making Dean an offer most teenage boys would kill for.   Either way, a stuttered ‘yes’ made its way out of his mouth and Ashley smiled up at him like he’d just made all her dreams come true.

 

Ashley abandoned her home ec group in favor of joining Dean, Sam, and Alfie.  She was nothing short of charming, constantly smiling and her laughter came easily and flowed over Dean like cool water.  This was easy, and not in the sexual way.  It was easy for Dean being romantic with a lady, with Ashley.  Polar opposite of how he felt around Cas.

Being anything beyond friendly with a guy was difficult for him.  He could get into all that conditioning crap and blame it on how he was raised or how his father reacted the first and only time Dean had kissed a boy, but what it really came down to was ease.  Dean felt comfortable wooing females; he was fine with his attraction to them.  Even though Dean liked Cas, and he liked Cas a little too much, every touch, hug, or prolonged gaze sent flickers of unease through his gut.

It wasn’t that he wasn’t attracted to guys, because he was, especially Cas.  No, attraction wasn’t the problem and guys weren’t the problem, it was other people.  Dean had always had a thing about people looking at him.  He’d tried to ignore it, he’d tried to push through it, and he was getting better about being the center of attention.  (It was difficult to stay completely out of the spotlight when Gabriel Mills was your best friend.)  But being romantic with a guy with anyone around had been proving to be the most nerve-racking thing Dean had ever done.

For a week, he’d pushed through it.  He’d walked Cas to every class, carrying his books and backpack with one arm and had a hand on his back or shoulder with the other.  He’d given Cas hugs in the hall and lavished the boy with attention and it was what Dean had thought he wanted.  But when faced with a choice, easy or hard, Ashley or Cas, Dean didn’t want to rise to the challenge anymore.

 

Dean walked Ashley to her math class with his arm over her shoulder.  He’d offered to carry her backpack for her, but she’d laughed again and refused, instead wrapping an arm around his waist.  After that, it was only natural to throw an arm over her shoulder and smile when her delicate perfume met his nostrils.  They chatted easily, and Dean felt some small trickle of relief when he noticed that there were a _lot_ less people staring at him and Ashley than there were when he walked Cas to his classes.

“You know, Dean.”  Ashley hesitated, piquing his interest.  “Those two Mills boys you hang out with, Gabriel and Castiel?”

Dean frowned, immediately on the defense.  “What about them?”

“I know they’re your friends, but I’ve known them for a long time, and I just wanted to warn you about them.”  Her eyes were so kind, like she didn’t really want to say anything bad about _anyone_ , especially Dean’s friends.

Dean’s tone was softer the next time he spoke.  “What about them, Ashley?”  She returned his smile and set about fiddling with the collar of his plaid overshirt as she continued.

“They’re not good for you, Dean.  I know it’s hard to see it now, but they’re the laughing stock of the school, those two.”  Dean’s eyebrows furrowed as he took in Ashleys’ words.

“Why?”  Her smile and eyes were kind when she answered.

“Well, Gabriel pulls all those ‘pranks,’ and he’s just looking for attention.  He doesn’t have very many friends, and I don’t know why, he’s a nice enough boy, but nobody wants to be around him for more than a few minutes at a time.  And Castiel?  Well, it was before you moved here, but there were some awful rumors going around about his anger issues and things.  He used to have a lot of friends, but he’s kind of a loner now, too.”

Even though just being with Ashley, letting her cup his cheek in her hand or fix his collar, was a huge breach of Cas’s trust, Dean prided himself on being loyal.  Gabe and Cas were his _friends_ , it didn’t matter to him that they were weird or whatever Ashley was trying to get at.

“That doesn’t mean I shouldn’t be friends with them.”

“I’m not saying you shouldn’t be, sweetheart.”  Ashley’s voice was like honey, apologetic and sweet.  She pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek before continuing.  “I just didn’t want you to find out the hard way, you know?  High school is tough enough without having people who’ll drag you down.”  With the way she was looking at him, he’d believe anything she said.  “I’m just trying to look out for you, Dean.”

“Thanks.”  He still wasn’t sure, though.  “I’d better go, I have to change before the bell rings.”

“Okay, hon!”  Ashley was beaming at him again and moving closer into his personal space.  “But I don’t think I’ll be able to let you go without you kissing me first.”

Dean’s face flushed and he smiled.  She was still cupping his cheek, so he ran a thumb down her jawline and pinched her chin between his fingers as he angled her face up to meet his.  

Her lips were soft, not chapped like the set of lips he’d been imagining for the past week.  Her tongue was quick as she smoothly ran it along his lower lip.  He parted his lips to meet her, and he felt her fingers tug on his hair briefly before they parted.

She looked good with the slight blush on her cheeks and her lips shiny with spit.  She smiled up at him and closed her eyes before placing a quick peck on his lips and drawing away.

“I’ll see you for lunch?”

“I’ll see you for lunch.”  Dean promised as the bell sounded.

 

Dean sprinted to the locker room.  He unceremoniously dumped the contents of his duffle bag onto the floor and changed in a frenzy.  Once his shorts were on his hips, he threw his gym tee over his shoulder, grabbed his tennis shoes, and finished dressing between clumsy, hasty steps to the small gymnastics gym.

He pulled his shirt over his head as he sprinted to Cas and Gary, both of whom had their arms crossed over their chests and were looking annoyed at his tardiness.

“Sorry I’m so late, guys, I lost track of time during passing period.”  He apologized as he shoved his arm through the shirt sleeve and finally settled his clothing properly.

“Sit on a pinecone, Winchester.”  Gary said, feigning irritation as he moved to his starting position under the set of rings.  Dean glanced at Cas, the dark-haired boy flashed him a small smile.

The grin he returned to Cas was just a little too much.  He should probably start holding back now that he was with Ashley, he didn’t want Cas to get the wrong idea.

 

“Oh, _fuck._ ”  He moaned as his hips stuttered forward.  His words were lost in Ashley’s mouth, and he could hear her breathing becoming irregular as he rubbed the pad of his thumb under her bra.  His hand was pinned to her chest by her shirt, and her hand was doing _magical_ things in the front of his pants.  Oh, hell, he was really starting to look forward to the dance, he freaking _loved_ whatever he and Ashley had going on.  He smiled into their kiss and pulled her closer with his free hand and she responded by quickening her pace.  The way Dean moaned was almost embarrassing, but he was getting close and he didn’t really care if he was being obscene because Ashley was _awesome_ and he knew she wouldn’t judge him.

The enraged voice that suddenly filled the room made his heart jump into his throat.  Dean wheeled around wildly, throwing an arm in front of Ashley in a subconscious effort to protect her.  He didn’t know what he expected, maybe a werewolf or a fucking grizzly going by the volume.  He certainly wasn’t expecting Cas.

“What the _fuck_ are you doing?”  Cas was pissed.  His hands were in fists by his sides and Dean could see the guy shaking from halfway across the small room.  A sharp twist of regret fired pain in Dean’s chest; this wasn’t at all how he imagined Cas finding out about Ashley, he really didn’t know what to say.  

“Oh, Cas, um.”  He floundered, but Cas let out another tidal wave of a shout.

“How _dare_ you!”  Cas dropped a bag of what looked like chalk and crossed the distance between them.  Dean held his hands up to the shorter boy, trying to make peace even though he couldn’t get a word in sideways.  “You lead me on for _weeks_ and this is how I find out?  What the _fuck!”_

Okay, yeah.  It goes without saying that Dean messed up majorly, he was beginning to see that now.

“Cas!  Cas, calm down, I can explain!”  He said quickly, trying to placate his furious friend.

“I don’t want _anything_ from you!”  And with that, Cas whipped his fist through the air so fast Dean didn’t have time to dodge.

He was shocked.  He knew Cas was mad, and he had every right to be, this was a low blow, but Dean hadn’t expected Cas to _hit him._  Dean touched his upper lip and his fingers came away bloody, between that and the pain, something snapped in him.

Suddenly, Dean wasn’t a kid who’d been caught cheating in a storage closet, he was the warrior his dad had trained him to be.  Dean was done placating the younger boy.  Cas wasn’t his friend, Cas was his enemy.  Dean drew himself to his full height and grabbed the wide-eyed boy by the front of his shirt, jerking him closer and lifting him off his feet.

He really should have known better than to pick a fight with Dean.  Cas wasn’t 120 pounds soaking wet, and with the adrenaline coursing through Dean’s veins, it felt like the blue-eyed boy didn’t weigh anything.  Dean drew back a fist, ignoring the boy’s gasp of terror and the fingers digging into his wrist.  

 _I’m going to knock his fucking teeth out._  And he wasn’t going to feel bad for it.  His upper lip pulled back in a snarl and his eyes were scanning Cas’s face for the perfect spot to land a punch when he heard the only thing that could have possibly made him hesitate.

“Please, Dean!  Don’t!”  Cas’s plea was just a whisper.  A terrified, pathetic, desperate whisper.

This was _Cas_ , the boy that had Dean questioning everything about himself and had him daydreaming about wide, strong hands all week.  This was the guy who listened to soft music and showed his gums when he smiled.  The one who worried about Dean not wearing a hat when it was cold, who fussed over his shirt collar in the mornings in the parking lot, and looked at Dean like he was the was the one who hung the moon.

What the hell was he thinking?  Cas wasn’t an _enemy_ , Cas wasn’t some shithead who needed his teeth knocked loose.  Cas was sweet and charming and funny and, well, _Cas._

Something became disgustingly clear to Dean in that moment; he was the monster here.

Dean pushed Cas away sharply.  He realized too late that he’d misjudged the effort needed to move the smaller boy; Cas gasped and his eyes flew open when Dean pushed him and he cried out when he hit the wall.  Dean flinched when he heard the crack of the dark-haired boy’s head strike the bricks, and watched in horror as Cas gripped the back of his head and had to shake his head and blink several times before he could focus on Dean.

And then he just _sat there_ , eyes wide and unblinking and _terrified_ like Dean was about to cross the room and start wailing on him.  Dean couldn’t handle that face, the one he adored, looking at him like he was a real-life monster.

Dean’s voice was full of self-hatred when told Cas to leave.  His big blue eyes were still focused on Dean, like he was afraid to take his eyes off of him for even a moment.  Cas felt for the doorknob and ran from the room like he was running for his life.

 _What have I done?_  Dean could feel something crack inside him.  He wasn’t so dramatic to think it was his heart breaking, but it certainly felt like a couple ribs were shattered.

Dean should just leave now.  Go to the library and search online news forums until he found a case and just take Sam and go.  They could call Dad on the way and tell him being stuck in one town for so long hadn’t sat well with them, Dean would say anything to get away from what he’d just done.  He couldn’t plan any further, because Ashley’s soft touch jarred him as she hugged his shoulders and brought him back.

“Dean?”  Her voice was soft, like his mom’s angel kisses when he was little.  “Are you okay?”

“I, uh.”  God, his voice broke again.  He couldn’t start crying right now, he couldn’t.  But he could feel it building up inside him, threatening to break free at any moment.  “I’m gonna go get dressed.  I’ll see you in a few.”  Dean didn’t wait for Ashley to respond and he didn’t look back.

 

He was a mess, a stupid, sobbing mess in the showers of the trainer’s locker room.  He’d punched the dividing wall so hard the metal dented and a nice bruise was already dark on his knuckles.  Dean had screwed up everything.

He didn’t think he’d ever be able to meet Cas’s eye again.  His behavior was inexcusable, and he knew that Cas was going to either be afraid of him or hate him for a long time.  

And Cas wasn’t going to keep quiet about this, he’d tell his brothers.  Gabriel was nearly as protective of his little brothers as Dean was of Sam; even if Gabe didn’t try to kick his ass, it would certainly be the end of the best friendship Dean had had in his entire life.  He’d heard that Michael and Lucifer were nearly kicked out of school the last time someone laid a finger on Cas, so he’s also have an epic beatdown coming from the twins for sure.

He thought some more about leaving town, but he just couldn’t do it.  Dean deserved the ass-whooping that was coming his way from the older Mills boys.

“Dean?”  A voice called out.  Dean choked back his sobs and called out a haughty ‘what’ as he tried to get a grip.

It was Gabe.  He didn’t hesitate to rip open the shower curtain despite Dean’s nakedness.  His eyes zeroed in on Dean’s bruised knuckles and quickly noticed the caved-in stall wall.

“Why are you crying?”  So he didn’t know.

“‘Cause I’m a piece of shit.”  Dean wasn’t as mad as he sounded, but he had to really force his voice so it wouldn’t break again.

“Huh.  I disagree, but okay.  Why did Ashley Turner tell me not to talk to you?”  Gabe looked more pissed than Dean had ever seen him, and he only knew the half of it.  He made a face and tugged the shower curtain out of Gabe’s hand and closed it before answering.

“I don’t know, she thinks you’re bad news or something.”  Dean quickly rinsed and turned off the spray while Gabe pondered his words.

“And what do you think?”  Dean couldn’t see him from where he was towel drying in the shower stall, but his voice was soft, worried maybe.

“I hadn’t even thought about it.  It doesn’t matter anyway, she’s nothing to me.”  Dean didn’t think he’d be able to look her in the eye ever again, either.  She was the pinnacle of his stupidity, the physical embodiment of all the friendships he’d managed to ruin today.

“What the hell is wrong, man?  You’re acting like your dog just died.”  Dean sighed as he wrapped the towel around his waist and stepped out of the stall.

“You’re going to find out anyway.  Let me get some pants on so it won’t be weird when you strangle me.”  He’d expected Gabe to laugh, that kind of humor usually sat well with his weirdo friend, but Gabe just glared at him until he was out of sight on the other side of the lockers.

 

“What?”  Gabe asked forcefully, his arms crossed and his feet apart as he stood over a fully-dressed Dean.  Dean was sitting on a bench in the locker room, pulling on his work boots and wondering how the hell he was going to tell his best friend that he probably gave his little brother a concussion and scarred him for life.

“Cas and I got in a fight.”  Gabe shook his head minutely and furrowed his eyebrows at him.

“And?”

Dean hesitated.  He had to take several calming breaths before he could get the words out.  “And I got too rough with him.”

“Wait, you mean a _physical_ fight?”  Gabe’s face was contorted with rage.  “ _You hurt my brother_?”

Dean couldn’t breathe.  This was it, the last bit of goodness leaving his life.  He couldn’t get his voice above a whisper.

“I did.”

He saw Gabe’s fist coming.  The guy was an unstoppable force on the wrestling mat, but wasn’t much above average at throwing a punch.  Dean didn’t move, he didn’t bother dodging.  He deserved this.

Gabe’s punch threw him off the bench.  The metal legs scraped on the floor as Gabe half-dragged half-threw the bench aside and stepped closer to him.  He told himself he deserved this with every kick Gabe aimed at his stomach.  Dean didn’t fight back.

Gabe stopped after the third kick.  Dean called after his friend with a pained ‘tell Cas I’m sorry, Gabe’ as the short blonde left him on the floor in a heap.

 

 

**\--  --**

 

 

Gabriel Mills was actually doing homework for once.  Despite working on his physics homework for a full two hours yesterday during the varsity basketball team’s practice, he still hadn’t managed to get even halfway through the assigned problems.  He was leaned over his notebook, sitting in the bleachers of the gymnastics gym where his little brother and Dean were doing their gymnastics and trainer thing.

“Damn it.”  He mumbled, erasing his math for the fourth time and starting over on an electrical circuit problem.  This really shouldn’t be this hard, Dean said he’d gotten his physics homework done in an hour and a half.  Gabriel had to be pushing three hours by now.

“What are you doing in here, Gabriel?”  An unfamiliar voice asked.  Gabriel looked up from his homework with his eyebrows raised.  A blonde girl was standing over him with her hands on her hips and her feet spread in something his theater teacher would call a ‘power-pose.’  

“Who are you, again?”  He asked, giving the girl a bewildered look.

“Ashley Turner, Dean’s _girlfriend_.”

 _Oh, hell._  He thought as he raised his eyebrows.  Since when did Dean have a girlfriend?  And why did it have to be _Ashley Turner_?  Gabriel had never met Ashley, but he’d heard enough about her to know she was one of the biggest drama queens in the school.

“I’ll say it again since your dumb little brain can’t seem to keep up.  What are you doing in here, Gabriel?”

“I’m allowed to be in here, _Ashley_.”  He challenged, resisting the urge to stand toe-to-toe with her.

“Not when Dean’s in here, you’re not.”  She hissed, her face contorted in rage.

“Excuse me?”  This girl obviously didn’t know who she was dealing with.  Gabriel was going to make the rest of the school year a living hell for her if she didn’t backpedal really damn quick.

“Listen to me, you stupid shit!  Stay the hell away from Dean, he doesn’t need a loser like you as his friend and you’re just going to drag him down.  I don’t want to see you talking to him again, understand?”  This girl had to be ten levels of stupid if she thought for _one second_ that Gabriel was going to just go along with that.

“Shove it up your ass, bitch.”  Gabriel grabbed his backpack and moved to the opposite end of the bleachers.  Before he’d gone too far, Ashley called after him.

“Talk to him and you’d better watch your back, Mills.”

 

Gabriel’s hands were still shaking with rage a half-hour later.  Dean should have met him by now, his friend was going on ten minutes late.  Gabriel was sitting on top of their usual lunch table, eyes trained on the door that lead to the athletics hallway with an untouched bag of food sitting next to him.  He’d been waiting for Dean to start eating, but the longer he waited, the less hungry he felt.

Was Dean seriously going to go along with Ashley’s insane demands?  Gabriel hoped not, though he’d had ‘friends’ in the past who’d ditched him for less.  Gabriel fiddled with the zipper of his jacket and glanced again at a clock.  They only had fifteen minutes of lunch left, if Dean hadn’t shown up by now, he probably wasn’t going to.

Frustration grated on every nerve Gabriel had.  He couldn’t just let some blonde bitch who’d only been dating Dean for a few days steal his best friend!  Who the hell did she think she was?  Gabriel was just thinking of adding Nair to Ashley’s shampoo bottle (surely it wouldn’t be too difficult to figure out which athletics locker was hers) when the devil herself walked up to him.

“Where’s Dean?”  She demanded, standing in another power-pose.

“Go eat a dick.”  Gabriel replied sullenly.  He grabbed the bag of food and stalked away, heading straight for the athletics’ hallway.

 

Gabriel silently entered the trainer’s locker room, one shower was still running and he figured it had to be Dean until he heard the unmistakable sound of sobbing coming from the stall.

“Dean?”  He called out timidly.  The sobs ended abruptly and a choked ‘what’ came from the stall.  He panicked, he’d never thought Dean would be one to bawl in the shower.  Gabriel thoughtlessly pulled back the shower curtain.

Dean was rubbing a thumb over his bruised and swollen knuckles of his right hand, Gabriel’s eyes widened as he noticed the metal divider wall was bent nearly in on itself.  It looked like someone had kicked it several times, Gabriel could barely believe Dean had done that with his _fist._

“Why are you crying?”  He finally asked, his eyes going back to the red, puffy eyes of his best friend.

“‘Cause I’m a piece of shit.”  Dean all but yelled at him, still rubbing his bruised hand.

 _Since when?_  Gabriel thought.  “Huh.  I disagree, but okay.”  He had more pressing matters to discuss than Dean defacing school property.  “Why did Ashley Turner tell me not to talk to you?”  Dean snorted and made a face as he pulled the curtain shut.  Gabriel stepped back and thought about taking a seat on the bench, but he was too on-edge.

“I don’t know, she thinks you’re bad news or something.”  Dean’s voice came floating out of the stall with a lot of splashing.

Gabriel didn’t like Dean’s resigned tone.  He couldn’t actually be listening to that crazy girl, could he?  Dean was his _friend_ , he would be able to judge Gabriel’s character better than an insane chick who had never said two words to him before today.  Gabriel took a steadying breath when Dean turned the shower spray off, the room fell silent as Gabriel readied himself to hear if his best friend was done with him.

“And what do you think?”  He said it softly, wishing he didn’t have to ask.  His heart was beating double-time as he anxiously awaited Dean’s answer.

“I hadn’t even thought about it.  It doesn’t matter anyway, she’s nothing to me.”  Though Dean sounded miserable, the relief that coursed through Gabriel nearly made his knees give out.  Now that he knew his friendship with Dean wasn’t in the shitter, he could start being a good friend and worry about whatever Dean was crying about.

“What the hell is wrong, man?  You’re acting like your dog just died.”  Dean sighed heavily as he stepped out of the shower with a towel wrapped around his waist.

“You’re going to find out anyway.”  Dean mumbled.  “Let me get some pants on so it won’t be weird when you strangle me.”  Normally that shit would have made Gabriel crack up, but they way Dean said it sent more shots of anxiety through his gut.  All he could do is stare at his friend with wide eyes as he went to the far side of the lockers for some privacy.

Once Dean was dressed and called Gabriel over, the short blonde boy stood over Dean with his arms crossed.  He was impatient, whatever Dean was about to tell him couldn’t be good.

“What?”  He demanded when Dean didn’t immediately say anything.

“Cas and I got in a fight.”  

Gabriel tilted his head a little.  Whatever had Dean bawling like a toddler in the shower, he wouldn’t have guessed in a million years it was because he’d gotten into a hissy fit with Gabriel’s little brother.  Why would Dean be so upset over that anyway?  

Gabriel knew the two of them had become something close to friends during the past week, since Dean insisted on blaming himself for Castiel falling and hurting his shoulder.  Whatever their little spat was about, Gabriel was certain Castiel would get over it.  The little guy was a hothead, he was always getting riled up over little things that were forgotten within a week.

“And?”  Gabriel asked, preparing an explanation to assure Dean that Castiel would forgive him for whatever their argument had been about.

“And I got too rough with him.”

Gabriel’s mind blanked.  Oh, no.  Oh, _hell_ no.

“Wait, you mean a _physical_ fight?”  His voice was shaking with rage.  “ _You hurt my brother_?”

Dean didn’t meet his eyes, he just whispered that he had.  He’d hurt Castiel.  Dean, who stood seven or eight inches taller than Castiel and probably outweighed him by a good sixty pounds had _dared_ mess with Gabriel’s little brother.

Gabriel had taken a step forward and his fist connected with the side of Dean’s head an instant later.  He watched with some satisfaction as Dean fell off the far side of the bench, but it wasn’t enough to cool the rage in Gabriel’s chest.  The blonde boy shoved the bench aside and struck Dean in the stomach with his foot.  He did it again.  And again.  Dean’s grunts filled the air beside Gabriel’s erratic breathing.

He stopped after three kicks.  He didn’t have it in him to really hurt Dean, that might make him weak, but he didn’t care.  He needed to go find Castiel, anyway.  He ignored Dean’s plea to apologize to Castiel for him as he left his best friend in the fetal position on the floor.

 

 

**\--  --**

 

 

Castiel had six missed calls and two unread texts from Gabriel, two missed calls from Michael, and four missed calls from Lucifer.  He was laying in the ceiling of the auditorium, there was a small army-style cot at the far end of the catwalk up where the stage lights were hung.  Charlie had brought him up here when she’d found him bawling in the server room halfway through the one o’clock period.  Charlie was sitting on the side of the cot leaned forward over him with her arms wrapped around his chest.  Castiel had his back to his best friend and was trying to be quiet despite his sobbing.  Though they were alone, if anybody wandered into the auditorium they’d be able to hear him if he was too loud.

After he’d left the athletic’s storage room, Castiel had ran to the parking lot with the idea that he could hide in the backseat of one of his brother’s cars.  But Michael and Lucifer had left campus for lunch, Raphael’s car had been locked, and he was one hundred percent sure Gabriel would skin him alive if he forced a window down to get into his corvette.  

As if his day couldn’t get any worse, Scott and Tommy had been in the parking lot stealing change from unlocked cars.  They’d laughed at him and called him faggot and a pussy for crying, then chased him through the lot.  He’d lost them in the double stairwell at the end of the math hall before running to the server room.  He’d stayed in there, hidden from the world for almost an hour before texting Charlie.

Charlie had snuck him into the catwalk.  Castiel didn’t want to know why a cot was in the ceiling, but he was grateful for the hiding place, he was in no mood to go to class.  The bell rang to release student to their two o’clock class, and Castiel was thankful he didn’t have to sit beside Dean in ethics this period.  Castiel shifted his arm and grabbed Charlie’s hand, silently thanking her for skipping class to be with him.

She immediately tangled her fingers through his and whispered ‘you okay?’ while rubbing her free hand on his back.

“No.”  He said miserably.  It wasn’t just the fight he was crying about, though after two hours of tears, he seemed to have finally cried himself out.  Dean had scared the hell out of him and hurt him, it was true.  Castiel could forgive Dean if that’s all he had done.

He was starting to come to terms with what happened.  Though he still didn’t understand how Dean could act like he liked Castiel for so long without even being attracted to guys.  It was a huge blow to his self-esteem to realize that Dean was straight, he never would have guessed it after this past week.

And then to find out the way he had, to walk in on the boy he was crazy about with a woman.  It had been too much all at once.

“I’m an idiot.”  Castiel whispered, hiccupping pathetically.

“No way, Castiel.”  Charlie insisted immediately.  “I thought he was gay, too.  You have nothing to be ashamed about.”  Castiel shook his head, he felt like he was about to start crying again, but his eyes were so dry and gritty he knew no more tears would come out.

The loud bang of metal on metal made them both jump.  Castiel turned around to see Gabriel heaving himself onto the catwalk and walking towards them in a crouch.  Castiel maneuvered his legs around Charlie carefully so he didn’t kick her, and sat up on the side of the cot to face his brother.

“There you are!  We’ve been looking all over for you, Castiel.”  Gabriel sounded mad, but immediately pulled Castiel into a tight hug.  “Dean told me he hurt you.”  Castiel looked into his brother’s eyes and saw a spark of anger in them.  “What did he do?”

Castiel shook his head.  “Nothing, Gabriel.”

“Did he hit you?”  His brother asked, taking a seat beside him on the cot.

“No, he- he pushed me.  My head hit the wall.”  Castiel absently felt the back of his head with his fingers, but there wasn’t a lump or a cut where his skull had connected with the bricks.

Gabriel gently pushed his fingers away and Castiel leaned into Charlie’s side while Gabriel felt the back of his head.  “What else did he to do you?”  Gabriel asked softly, still brushing his fingers through Castiel’s hair.

“Nothing.”  Castiel muttered, looking down at his hands folded in his lap in shame.  “He just grabbed me and pushed me.”

“Then why are you still crying?”  Gabriel asked.  Castiel glanced at his older brother, he had one eyebrow raised and his head was tilted to the side.  

Gabriel stared at Castiel for a moment, then sighed and pulled out his cell phone.  Castiel saw him open up a group chat with the twins and tell them that he’d found their ‘awol brother’ and where they were.

“You know, I also called _you_ , Charlie.”  Gabriel didn’t sound mad, just annoyed.  “We were worried sick.  The least you could’ve done was send me a text.”  Gabriel gave Charlie a stern look.  Castiel squeezed her hand as she squeaked out an apology.

“Don’t be mad at her, Gabriel.  I told her to ignore you.”  Castiel’s older brother met his eyes again after he hit ‘send’ and put his phone back in his pocket.

“What’s upsetting you, Castiel?”  Gabriel wrapped an arm over his shoulder and pulled him into his chest.  Castiel let him, and slowly wrapped his arms around his big brother’s torso before speaking.

“It’s just, I mean-.”  Castiel took a deep breath before starting over.  “Gabriel, is Dean straight?  You’re his best friend, you would know.”  He didn’t want to be so forward, but he had to know.

Gabriel shifted awkwardly beside him and Castiel resisted looking up at his facial expression.  “That’s, uh, never come up.”  Gabriel was silent for a moment before he asked; “You like him, don’t you?”

Castiel had to take a steadying breath before he could answer.  “I just feel like I’ve been getting a lot of signals from him, especially this past week.  But now that he and Ashley are-.”  Castiel waved his hand through the air, he didn’t want to think about what Dean and Ashley were.  Gabriel gently pushed on Castiel’s shoulders until he was sitting up and looking his older brother in the eye.

“Listen to me, little brother.”  Gabriel said softly but seriously.  “Dean blamed himself for you hurting your shoulder, he specifically told me that was the reason he was walking you to class.”  Gabriel’s eyes turned pitying and Castiel moved to look away, but Gabriel grabbed his chin roughly and made him look at him.

“I know he gave you a lot of attention this week, but forget about that.  Even if Dean _was_ gay, he wouldn’t be any good for you.  Especially after what happened during lunch.  You don’t need somebody like that and you need to stay away from him, understand?”

It broke his heart to nod in agreement, but Castiel’s heart had already broken once that day.

 

It wasn’t long before Lucifer stuck his head through the trapdoor at the far end of the catwalk and he and Michael joined them.  Michael handed Castiel a bottle of water and the twins sat down on the catwalk with their feet over either side, they leaned against each other’s backs for support and looked at Castiel and Gabriel expectantly.

“What’s up, Shorty?”  Lucifer said, resting his head back on Michael’s shoulder.

“Nothing.”  Castiel’s voice was small, he kept his eyes fixed on the water bottle in his lap as he picked at the label.

“It doesn’t sound like nothing.”  Michael said, and Castiel could practically feel his oldest brother’s eyes boring into him.  “You’ve skipped three classes this afternoon, and so have we since we were looking for you.”  When Castiel continued picking at the water bottle label, Michael continued.  “And I’d really like an explanation as to why Lucifer and I had to gang up on Dean Winchester.”  Castiel’s head snapped up and he gazed open-mouthed at the twins.  

“You didn’t.”  He whispered.  Castiel was mortified; all Dean did was push him against a wall, he didn’t deserve the kind of heat the twins could dish out.  If the aftermath of the garbage dumpster incident taught Castiel anything, it was that the twins were ruthless.

“We did.”  Lucifer said with pride and a broad grin.  Michael nodded, though he kept his expression strictly neutral.  Castiel felt like he was going to be sick.  He never wanted Dean to get jumped because of him, no matter what he’d done.

“What did you do?”  He demanded, giving the twins a sharp look.

“Relax, he’s fine.”  Lucifer said.

“He got right up and walked away as soon as we were done.”  Michael added.

“Took it like a man, too, gotta respect that.”  Lucifer nudged Michael, who nodded in agreement.

“What did you _do_ , Michael?”  Castiel asked again, raising his voice slightly, but his brothers ignored him.

“And he promised to never lay a finger on you again.”  Michael looked satisfied.

“Do you believe that?”  Gabriel asked gruffly.

Michael twisted his mouth and shrugged.  “I believe him.”

“Actually, he promised he’d never say another word to you again.  Which is better, if you ask me.”  Lucifer settled his head back against Michael’s shoulder.

It seemed like all of Castiel’s air was forced out of him in one great _whoosh_.  Dean was never going to speak to him again?  That’s what he’d promised the twins?  Castiel took in a shaky gasp of air and tried to block out his brothers’ conversation.

It would certainly be easier for him to get over Dean if the tall dirty-blonde never spoke to him again.  The thought made his chest ache, and he knew that he didn’t really want to get over Dean.  A small part of his brain shouted ‘he doesn’t want you anyway!’ but his heart continued to ache.  Charlie scooted closer to him and gave him a tight squeeze, drawing him away from focusing on his heartache.

“It’s going to be okay.”  She whispered, leaning her cheek on his shoulder.  Castiel could only nod.

“So since Castiel won’t tell us what happened, start talking, Gabriel.”  Michael commanded.

Gabriel hesitated.  “Uh, I’m not real sure what started it, but Dean and Castiel had a round of fisticuffs.”

“That’s not true.”  Castiel immediately said, speaking over whatever Lucifer was about to say.  “Dean never hit me.”

“What, then?”  Lucifer asked, and Castiel could tell his brothers were getting impatient with him.

“He pushed me, and my head hit the wall.”  Castiel looked down at his hands again.

“His head’s fine.”  Gabriel said to what Castiel could only assume was Michael’s silent question.  “Doesn’t even have a goose egg.”

“Did you at least get one good hit in on him, Shorty?”  Michael asked, shifting on the hard catwalk.

Castiel grinned, a little proud of himself despite how shitty the circumstances were.  “I punched him, he had a bloody nose.”

Stunned silence filled the catwalk.

“I am so damn proud of you!”  Lucifer jumped up and sat in Castiel’s lap to wrap him in a bear hug.

“Ow!  Ow!  Please get off!”  Castiel shouted.  His brother’s full weight was on his knees, and the bar of the cot was digging in painfully.  Lucifer held him for a moment longer so he could rub his knuckles into Castiel’s scalp, then stood and took his place leaning against his twin.

The bell rang, and Castiel sighed.  It was two thirty, time for choir.  He really didn’t want to see Dean, but he knew his brothers, mainly Michael, wouldn’t stand by and let him skip the rest of the school day.

“Let’s go.”  Michael said, using his I’m-in-charge voice.  Lucifer and Gabriel immediately stood and started their way back to the trapdoor.

Castiel didn’t move, but didn’t fight when Michael pulled him to his feet and gave him a light shove to get him moving.  Castiel’s breathing steadily increased the closer they got to the choir room.

 

“You expect me to believe that?”  Garth asked quietly.  Castiel followed Gabriel and Lucifer into the choir room while Michael followed with his hands resting on Castiel’s shoulders.  

Castiel would have had his head down and eyes focused on the floor if he hadn’t spent the last three minutes being lectured on keeping his chin up by the twins.  As it was, he got a good glimpse of Dean being questioned by their choir teacher over the state of his face.

Castiel didn’t gasp when he saw the tall dirty-blonde boy, but only because he was so shocked he couldn’t breathe.  Dean’s right eye was swollen shut, the skin a dark purple bruise that extended almost to his hairline.  Another bruise colored his left cheekbone and his lip was split and swollen.  Dean let out an exaggerated sigh as Castiel passed, speaking with some difficulty to their teacher.

“Honestly, Mr. Garth, I tripped on the stairs behind the weight room after lunch!  There was ice, and-.”  

“That is the biggest load of crap I’ve heard in my life, Dean!”  Mr. Garth interrupted in a hiss.  “If someone is bullying you, well, tell me!  I can help!”

Castiel heard Dean laugh loudly and insisted he wasn’t being bullied before their conversation was drowned out by the voices of the rest of the class.  Michael silently led Castiel to his spot on the risers, and Castiel got another good look at Dean’s busted-up face as the blonde took his spot two rows below Lucifer.

Castiel grabbed Michael’s arm and squeezed tightly, making his brother wince and glare down at him.

“What?”  Michael asked in a whisper.  Like he didn’t know.

“What did you two do?”  Castiel demanded in a whisper, tightening his grip on Michael’s wrist.

“Nobody messes with our little brother, Castiel, just because you like Dean-.”

“Michael!”  Castiel warned, but his brother twisted his arm out of Castiel’s grip.

“Just because you like him doesn’t give him the right to treat you like shit.”  Michael finished.  “He won’t mess with you ever again.  You’re welcome.”  Michael turned to face the front just as Mr. Garth started the warm-ups on the piano.

Castiel was mad at Dean, sure.  He was angry and hurt and didn’t want to talk to Dean anytime soon.  But he hadn’t wanted the twins to hurt Dean, and he certainly hadn’t wanted Dean to promise to stay away and never talk to him again.

 

Gabriel caught Castiel behind the gym after school while he was trying to decide whether or not he really wanted to go to environment club today.  

“Would you consider it a betrayal if I continued to be friends with Dean?”

Castiel’s heart sank.  Gabriel was lucky, he had the option of being close to Dean despite what had happened today.  After a moment of deliberation, Castiel found he couldn’t keep Gabriel from his friend.  His brother only wanted the same thing he did, after all.

“That’s fine, Gabriel.”  Castiel’s voice sounded hollow, even to himself.

“Are you sure?”  The way Gabriel was eyeing him made him feel even worse, his brother was still pitying him.

“I’m sure.  He’s your best friend, I don’t want to get in the way of that.”  Castiel turned to leave.  If he hadn’t let his emotions get in the way, he would be in the same boat as Gabriel, best friends with the most amazing man Castiel had ever met.  As it was, Castiel had never felt more alone.

Castiel got about twenty feet from his brother when the yelling started.  He turned back to see Dean’s girlfriend, the blonde he hated more than he hated himself right now, punching Gabriel repeatedly.

“How dare you!  I told you to stay away from him!”  She shouted as she ran at Gabriel, who was retreating and refusing to fight back at all.

“Get off me, bitch!”  Gabriel shouted back, trying to catch her fists as they rained down on him.  Castiel saw a huge guy he didn’t know advancing on his brother, and he saw that Gabriel didn’t see him, focused as he was on Ashley.

Castiel had dropped his backpack and was running towards his brother before he’d even stopped to think his actions through.  It didn’t occur to him that he was short and scrawny, or that he didn’t know how to fight or dodge a punch.  All he saw were the hands of the big guy as they gripped the front of Gabriel’s shirt and punched him hard enough to make Gabriel’s knees buckle.  Castiel let out a wordless shout as the guy hit Gabriel again and Castiel watched as his brother dropped like a stone.

Castiel was on them then, he punched, kicked, and scratched at the big guy’s neck and face until the beast of a student wrapped a hand around his neck.  Castiel struggled and kicked at his and Gabriel’s assailant, he even landed a sharp kick to the guys’ shin that made him howl and tighten his hold on Castiel’s neck.  

Castiel couldn’t breathe, he struggled as he at pried the guy’s fingers, but couldn’t get them off his neck.  An odd thought forced itself into his brain and he realized this guy wasn’t nearly as scary as Dean had been, the thought gave him courage, and he continued to struggle.  His sight was beginning to fade, and he fruitlessly beat at the guy’s wrist as he heard a new voice shouting.

Castiel’s knees hit the ground and he gasped down a lungful of air that made his head spin.  He felt himself fall sideways into something and he startled, but it was only Gabriel.  His brother was just now sitting up on the grass from getting clocked.  Castiel looked around wide-eyed, trying to figure out why the big guy had let him go.

Dean Winchester was standing between where Castiel and his brother were slumped together and the guy that had knocked their lights out.  Before Castiel could even begin to worry over Dean’s well-being, the tall dirty-blonde neatly dodged a right hook and landed two punches and a knee to the guy’s gut.

The fight didn’t last long, Castiel stood and had barely gotten Gabriel to his feet when the big guy hit the deck and stayed down.  Castiel held his brother up and watched wide-eyed as Dean told Ashley to leave the Mills boys alone, the blonde scowled at Dean and shouted more expletives before storming off.

“Are you okay?”  Dean asked.  Castiel looked at the battered face of his (what was Dean to him now?  Ex-love interest?) of his friend and was about to reply when he realized Dean’s question had only been directed at Gabriel.

“Yeah, I think so.  Thanks.”  Gabriel smiled at Dean, blood dripping from his nose.

“Good.”  Dean grinned and, still speaking to Gabriel, asked “Is Castiel okay?”

If adrenaline hadn’t still been coursing through Castiel’s veins, he thought he’d be unable to breathe because of that.  This is how it was going to be?  Dean would speak to Gabriel like Castiel wasn’t even there?  Dean wouldn’t even look at him?  Would call him Castiel instead of Cas?  How was this at all fair?  It was the adrenaline that kept Castiel from falling apart, but it was also the reason he found himself shoving Gabriel and Dean aside to go collect his backpack.

He didn’t wait in the parking lot for his brother, though Gabriel was his usual ride home.  Castiel walked home, using the mindless exercise and hour-long walk to clear his mind.


	7. The Dance

**Friday, February 13**

 

“Try again, son.  You can do this.”  Chuck said patiently.

Castiel’s dad stood behind him in the upstairs bathroom, showing him again how to tie his tie.  They’d been at it for almost twenty minutes.  All of Castiel’s brothers had gotten it down by their third attempt, but Castiel kept ending up with the front part of his tie backwards.

“I’m going to make mom late if we’re up here fussing with this for much longer.”  Castiel said, a little distracted as he knotted his tie.

His dad chuckled.  “If you don’t get it this time we can call it a day and I’ll do it for you.  But this is important, bud, you gotta know how to tie a tie.”

Castiel threw his hands in the air and let them fall with a sharp slap against his dress pants when his knot came out all screwy again.  Chuck fought back a smile as he took Castiel’s tie and tied it expertly.  When he handed it back, it looked perfect.

“Thanks, Dad.”  Castiel said as his father tightened the knot around his neck and fixed his collar.

“Don’t mention it, kiddo.”

 

Castiel’s mom drove him and Samandriel to the school.  Castiel would have begged one of his brothers to take him, but they all had to go pick up their dates and wouldn’t want their little brother in the backseat.  As the school’s resource officer and chaperone for the dance, his mom had to be there a half hour early.  She left Castiel and Samandriel in the lobby of the school’s commons to wait for their dates and headed to the gym where the dance would be held.  Castiel and his brother sat on the edge of the water fountain as students began to trickle in.

“Who’s your date, again?”  Castiel asked as he straightened the flowers on the lapel of Samandriel’s jacket.

“Jackie, she’s on the swim team with me.”  Samandriel was all smiles, this was his first dance and it was all he’d talked about for the past three days.  He’d been bugging Castiel for dance lessons for weeks until the dark haired boy had finally given in.  They’d spent the majority of last Saturday in the basement, dancing to music from their dad’s old juke box.  It had been fun, and Castiel had been able to put three years of swing dancing lessons to good use, even if Samandriel was a little uncoordinated and had just learned the basics.

“She’s a lucky girl.”  Castiel said, giving his brother a pat on the back once he looked presentable.  The two chatted until Jackie arrived, then Samandriel left Castiel on the side of the fountain to wait for Charlie.

After last Thursday’s fiasco, where Castiel not only did _not_ ask Dean Winchester to the dance, but also had his heart broken when he found out the guy was as straight as could be, Castiel had decided he flat-out wasn’t going to the dance.  He just couldn’t see any point in going since the only person he’d wanted to dance with turned out to be a total jerk.

But then Charlie asked him to be her date, and been terribly offended when he tried to tell her he wasn’t going and basically _made_ him agree.  Though their bickering had been more playful than anything else, they’d fought the whole weekend.  It wasn’t until Charlie had shown up on Monday morning with tears in her eyes that Castiel realized she was actually being serious.  He’d had to agree.

Now that he was here, though, he was glad she had made him come.  Any excuse to wear a suit was a win in Castiel’s book.

Castiel people-watched while the school steadily became more and more populated.  There were mostly other single people in the foyer, appearing to also be waiting for their dates to arrive.  Castiel saw Sam Winchester walk in with a blonde girl that was a full head taller than him and Castiel kept his eyes down as Dean was sure to be close behind.  He fidgeted with the corsage he’d bought for Charlie for several minutes to make sure the coast was clear.

Castiel raised his eyes just as Charlie walked through the front doors, his first thought was that she looked stunning.  Her light green dress complemented her long, red hair perfectly and of _course_ she was wearing a pair of converse to a formal dance.  Castiel smiled as he stood up, he turned to face Charlie and was just about to open his mouth to tell her she looked great when the sound of pounding footsteps caught his attention.

Castiel turned his head just in time to see Tommy, one of the boys who’d been bullying him since September, charge up to him and give him a rough shove.  

There was nothing he could do, the force of Tommy pushing him made him take a step back, and when the back of his lower legs connected with the edge of the fountain, his torso tipped back.  Castiel tried to grab one of Tommy’s arms to keep himself from falling into the water, but as soon as Tommy pushed him, he turned and ran, leaving Castiel to grasp at empty air.  Though he wildly pumped his arms, there was no regaining his balance, and he continued to fall.

He was going to land fully in the fountain, his clothes would be completely soaked.  Castiel closed his eyes and held his breath as his feet left the ground.

When Castiel’s back hit something, it wasn’t the cold water he’d been expecting, it was very solid and it wrapped itself securely around his back.  A hand closed on his upper arm and Castiel’s eyes flew open as Dean Winchester pulled him up and into his chest.

Dean set Castiel on his feet and kept one hand wrapped around his arm as he reached into the fountain and pulled Charlie’s corsage, still safe and dry in it’s package, out of the water.

Dean didn’t say a word as he handed over the flower, but Castiel did hear him mutter something along the lines of ‘come ’ere you little shit’ as the tall blonde took off after Tommy.  Castiel’s mouth hung open stupidly as he watched Dean barrel through the front doors and put on a burst of speed, Tommy fled around the edge of the building and Dean quickly disappeared after him.

Castiel jumped when Charlie put a hand on his arm.

“You okay?”  She asked, giving him a concerned look.

“Y- yeah.”  Castiel said softly, looking again through the front doors where Dean disappeared around the corner of the building.

“Dean’s going to kick that guy’s _ass!_   Did you see his face when he took off?”  Charlie grinned at him, but quickly let the expression fade when she saw Castiel’s frown.

“Sorry, Castiel, I shouldn’t be happy Dean caught you.  Not that I’m _not_ happy Dean caught you, sitting in the fountain wouldn’t have been a good way to start the evening!  But I mean, after last week, he- I’ll just, uh, shut up now.”  Charlie bit her lips and suddenly became very fascinated with a group of juniors standing nearby.  Castiel was silent as he opened Charlie’s corsage and placed the bracelet around her wrist.  

He was, of course, grateful Dean had caught him, but things had been so cold between them since last Thursday that he didn’t know what to think.  Dean had stayed good on his promise to Michael that he wouldn’t talk to Castiel anymore.  In fact, he’d only said around ten words to Castiel all week.  

He’d asked ‘you good?’ three times; once in gymnastics on Tuesday after catching Castiel when he fell off the parallel bars.  Dean had caught him, carefully righted him and set him down, looked him in the eye for the first time since their fight, and asked ‘you good?’  Castiel hadn’t dignified that with an answer.  Dean had bit his lip, looked away, and gone right back to ignoring Castiel.

Dean asked if Castiel was good again in the math hallway, where Castiel had been crouched beside his locker.  Matthew had shoved Castiel over and thrown his open backpack across the hall, scattering the bag's contents in the process.  Dean had charged in, ripped Matthew’s backpack off his shoulders and shoved it in an open empty locker and spun the combination, locking it inside.  Then Dean made Matthew pick up Castiel’s books and backpack, return them, and apologize.  Dean asked Castiel ‘you good?’ after Matthew took off, then walked Castiel to his next class silently.  Castiel thought that maybe Dean had gotten over his aversion of him, but by ethics Dean was ignoring him completely again.

The third time had been yesterday, when Dean followed Castiel into the gymnastics locker room after he’d stormed off halfway through practice and found Castiel with tears in his eyes.  The third ‘you good?’ had been followed by ‘sorry, that was stupid, I’m-’ before Dean set his jaw, dropped his gaze to the floor, and left the room.

Castiel wasn’t sure what that had meant, and had tried to put it out of his head, but now all three incidents were at the forefront of his mind as he began musing on his and Dean’s latest interaction.  

Castiel hadn’t seen Tommy until he was right on him, Dean surely couldn’t have seen him too much sooner than Castiel had, and yet he’d made it to Castiel’s side quick enough to catch him before he hit the water.  Wouldn’t that mean he’d have to be close?

Castiel took a seat at a table beside Charlie, but was too caught up in his head to notice the nervous look she was giving him.

There was only two explanations he could come up with as to how Dean could have possibly got to him quick enough to catch him.  One; he’d been watching Castiel and seen Tommy start running long before Castiel did.  He’d never caught Dean staring at him before, but he’d overheard Gabriel teasing Dean about it once, several weeks ago.  Or two; he’d been right beside Castiel.  

Both explanations made his head spin with questions.  Dean had no reason to be near him, he’d promised the twins to stay away.  And he had no reason to be looking at him; even if Dean didn’t like where they’d left off, what was Castiel to Dean besides his friend’s little brother?

“Castiel, are you okay?”  Charlie asked, interrupting his thoughts.

Castiel looked up, a little surprised to find they were sitting at a table in the gym and no longer in the foyer.  “Yeah!”  He said, sounding a little too chipper to be believable.  “I was just”  -he motioned vaguely- “thinking.”  Castiel nodded like everything was totally normal.  He wanted to ask Charlie if she’d seen where Dean was standing before Tommy pushed him, but didn’t want to answer the questions she was sure to follow up with.

“Do you want some punch?”  Castiel asked, speaking over whatever Charlie was about to say.  He didn’t wait for her answer before he stood up and walked briskly to the refreshments table.

He tried to put Dean Winchester out of his head so he could enjoy the dance.  It didn’t really matter why or how Dean was able to get to him so fast, the answer wouldn’t change anything.

In the past week, Castiel had tried his damndest not to think about Dean, whether it be the fight they’d had, cuddling at the bonfire, or the countless hugs Dean had given him in the week following his fall.  Gabriel’s advice was to keep moving forward and cut Dean out of his life as much as possible.  He was trying to follow his brother’s advice, but it left him to eat his lunch by himself again and now he was more alone than he’d ever been.

Charlie had been his saving grace.  She had a different lunch period than he did, but otherwise she’d been by his side or texting him non-stop since the storage closet incident.  She cursed Dean’s name right along with him or bemoaned Castiel’s bad luck with him when he was feeling sorry for himself.  Charlie was the one he needed to focus on now; she was his date, after all, not Dean.

When Castiel returned to the table with cups of punch for himself and Charlie, he threw himself into conversation with her with maybe just a touch too much animation.  He acted like Dean hadn’t just prevented Tommy from ruining his night, and Charlie went along with it, even if she did seem to think he was acting weird.

 

Once the music started, Castiel left the jacket of his suit on the back of his chair and let Charlie drag him to the dance floor.  If there was one perk about being Charlie’s date, it was that she was a fun dance partner.  She’d never had lessons, but she was more than willing to dance any style and possibly made herself look like a fool while she did so.  The next hour passed by in a blur, Castiel got himself and Charlie another round of punch when they took a break to catch their breath.

They were sharing their table with a group of Charlie’s friends.  When Castiel returned, Charlie was chatting up her crush, a tall sophomore girl named Dorothy.  

“Hey, Castiel!”  Charlie said, beaming up and him as he handed her a cup of punch.  “You know Dorothy, right?”  Dorothy gave him a polite smile that he returned and he held out his hand to shake hers.

“Kinda, yeah.  I’m Castiel Mills.”

“Dorothy Baum, it’s nice to meet you.”  

“The pleasure’s all mine.”  Castiel took a sip of punch and let his eyes scan the space between Dorothy and Charlie.  What was a good friend to do but let them have a few minutes of alone time?  “Charlie, I think I’m going to step out for some air, do you mind?”

Charlie gave him a grateful look.  “Are you sure?  What about Tommy?”

“Oh, it’s fine.”  Castiel waved her concerns aside.  “It’s just a little stuffy in here, I’ll see you in a bit.”  Castiel gave Dorothy another smile before grabbing his suit jacket off the back of his chair and heading for the gym doors.

 

The sun was setting.  It painted the sky an orangy-yellow that faded into a soft pink and made the dark clouds on the horizon turn gold around the edges.  Castiel leaned against the handrail on the front steps and took a moment to appreciate the sight.  He filled his lungs with the cool February air and let his breath out slowly, his eyes roamed over the clouds and the dark shadows they left across the sky.  A soft cough caught his attention, and he bit his bottom lip when he spied Dean Winchester leaning against a brick column.

He stood with his back to Castiel with his hands in his pockets and his chin held high.  Castiel smiled softly when he realized Dean was also admiring the sunset.  He felt a familiar, painful ache in his chest as he looked at the taller boy.

Despite all the heartache Dean put him through last week, Castiel should really thank him for preventing him from falling in the fountain.  He didn’t want to do it; every time Castiel so much as _looked_ at Dean there was this pressure in his chest that took his breath away and made his eyes prick painfully like he was about to cry.  Dean Winchester broke Castiel’s heart when he walked in on him in that storage closet with Ashley, and a small part of Castiel hated Dean for it.  But there was a larger part of him that still wanted Dean, still cared about him and wanted to be around him.  Castiel had been at odds with himself all week, he just wasn’t ready to give up on Dean, and maybe that made him an idiot, but there it was.  He’d just been so crazy about that boy, and so sure about him.

Castiel downed the rest of his punch and continued to watch Dean as he watched the sun set.  Even though Dean had promised to stay away, he’d caught Castiel before he fell in the fountain, and he’d stuck up for him when Matthew was picking on him.  Nobody besides Castiel’s brothers had ever stuck up for him when he was being picked on, but Dean was willing to do so time and time again.  That had to mean something, didn’t it?

Maybe it was a poor decision, one that would make his heartache return in full force and ruin his good mood.  Maybe he should go back inside, sit at his table alone and watch Charlie dance with her crush and be happy that her crush, at least, is into the gender of the person pining over them.  Or maybe he should walk up to Dean, thank him for catching him before he fell in the fountain and pull that boy onto the dance floor and forget about who was gay and who wasn’t.  However poor his decision, and despite whatever consequences his actions had in store for him, Castiel walked down the stairs, tossed his cup in a trash can, and headed to the column Dean was leaning against.

Dean turned as Castiel approached, and he half-expected Dean to turn and leave without saying a word to him, but instead Dean lowered his head and stared at his feet.

“Hello, Dean.”  Castiel’s voice was low and sad.  He supposed he should try to sound happier, but what was the point of pretending around Dean?

Dean took a moment too long to respond, and Castiel thought for sure Dean was just going to continue to ignore him.  It made him mad, because Dean had led him on and broke his heart and now couldn’t even give him the courtesy to be civil.  But Dean did respond, albeit with a deep sigh, his ‘hey, Cas’ was barely audible over the sound of the music from the gym.

Castiel took a deep, shaky breath.  Dean sounded so resigned, so unhappy.  Castiel didn’t know if Dean’s unhappiness was because Castiel was here bugging him or if it was for some other reason.

“Why aren’t you dancing?”  Castiel asked, forcing a smile onto his face.

Dean laughed humorlessly.  “I’m only here because of Sammy, he asked some little eighth grader named Jessica to be his date and I couldn’t ruin his first dance because I didn’t want to go.”

“Yeah, I uh, I saw them walk in together.”  Castiel glanced down and shuffled his feet.

“They’re cute, huh?  Jess is like, six inches taller than Sam.”  Dean huffed a laugh.  “I’m never going to let him live that down.”

Silence stretched between them then.  Both boys avoided eye contact while Castiel plucked up the courage to say the words he’d come over here to say.

“I just wanted to thank you.”  Castiel began, looking at the sunset so he wouldn’t have to see Dean’s face.  “For catching me, I mean.  When Tommy pushed me into the fountain.”  Dean didn’t say anything, Castiel risked glancing at him and found Dean’s eyes still glued to his shoes.  “And for stepping in when that guy was beating me and Gabriel up.  And uh, also for sticking up for me when Matthew threw my backpack across the hall.  Nobody ever does that for me.”

“Cas, you don’t have to thank me for doing that.”  Dean’s voice strained over his words, and Castiel worried he was getting sick.

“Yes, I do.”  Castiel insisted fiercely.  “You didn’t have to help me a single one of those times, so thank you.”  The silence following his statement stretched for nearly half a minute, Castiel was once again convinced Dean wasn’t going to speak again.

“I’ll always stick up for you, Cas.”  Dean said softly, his words still directed at his own feet.  “You deserve better.”

Castiel felt the back of his neck get warm.  He was so _tired_ of people telling him that he deserved better.  

“Well, thanks.”  He said sarcastically.  “I’ll try to find something better, then.”  He turned on his heel and marched away.

Why did he have to wait for something better?  What if Dean was enough of whatever he ‘deserved’ for him to be happy?  It couldn’t be romantic, he understood that, and he was mostly okay with it.  But he still wanted Dean in his life, in whatever package that may come in.

He made it to the bottom of the stairs before he changed his mind.  Castiel set his jaw and turned back to Dean.

“I never wanted you to stop talking to me, you know!”  He called as he crossed the lawn.  “I don’t know why you felt you needed to promise my brothers _that_ of all things.”

Dean’s voice was flat when he answered.  “I figured it was for the best.”

“Whose idea of ‘best’ was that?”  Castiel couldn’t help the sneer on his face.  He was mad and he felt like maybe, this time, he was allowed to be a little mad.

“We got into it, Cas!  I _hurt_ you!”  Dean took a deep breath to calm himself.  “I’m sorry, but this _is_ for the best.”

“You know,”  Castiel began, trying to keep his voice even.  “I really pushed you and I shouldn’t have.  After my behavior last Thursday, it’s completely understandable that you-.”

“After _your_ behavior?”  Dean interrupted, finally looking up from his shoes and staring at Castiel with a pained look on his face.

“I punched you, Dean.  Whatever problem I had with you, you didn’t deserve that.”

Dean made a choking noise that stopped Castiel short.  Castiel looked fully at Dean, the dirty blonde was no longer leaning against the bricks, he was working his jaw soundlessly while staring wide-eyed at Castiel with his hands in fists by his side.  Dean took a step towards the shorter boy, it wasn’t particularly deliberate or threatening, but something about Dean’s expression made Castiel remember how terrifying Dean had been back in the storage closet, when he was about to punch him.  Castiel backed up quickly with a panicked ‘don’t!’

Dean froze.  Castiel stared at him with wide eyes, his fingers clutched his own jacket in his panic and his breath caught in his throat with every inhale.  Dean gaped at him for a moment before his face crumpled in anguish.

“God, you’re really afraid of me.”  Dean whispered.  Castiel watched carefully as Dean raised a hand and rubbed his chest with his palm.  Dean raised his voice and his words came out rough and miserable.  “I’m so sorry, Cas.  I’m so, so sorry.”  Dean made another choking sound as he turned and left Castiel standing there.

 

It took Castiel a few minutes to calm down.  It wasn’t Dean specifically that he was afraid of, and it definitely wasn’t Dean’s fault that Castiel tends to panic when people look even vaguely threatening, that was more the product of intense bullying.  

Logic told him that Dean wouldn’t hurt him again, that all Dean had done since hurting him the first time was try to atone for his actions.  He’d even taken beatings from three of Castiel’s older brothers without fighting back or making a peep, Castiel could only assume Dean took those beatings lying down because he felt he deserved it.

Castiel couldn’t let Dean walk away again, not now that they were finally having a conversation.

After several minutes of searching, Castiel found Dean on a bench by the tennis courts.  He looked up with red-rimmed eyes when Castiel took a seat next to him.  Castiel folded his hands in his lap and laughed humorlessly.

“What a mess, huh?”  He asked, glancing over at Dean.

“Yeah.”  Dean sighed heavily and rubbed his palms on his face.  “I’m so sorry, Cas.”  Dean turned sideways on the bench to face Castiel.  “If someone my size did what I did and threw you against the wall like that, I’d kick their ass so bad they wouldn’t wake up ‘till new years.”

Castiel furrowed his eyebrows and looked down at his hands in his lap while he listened to Dean.

“Cas, I’m a piece of shit and I’d deserve it if I never got to talk to you again, you’re wonderful and sweet and funny as hell and you deserve so much better from your friends.  I’m sorry I grabbed you, I could have really hurt your neck, and I’m sorry I raised my fist at you, even if I didn’t hit you, I’m so ashamed of myself.”  Dean took a deep breath and rubbed his palm against his chest again.

“When I threw you, and I heard your head hit the wall I- I was so _scared_ , Cas.  I could have really hurt you, I thought I did, and it doesn’t matter that you were okay because I’m still horrible for doing that to you.”

Castiel had to take a steadying breath.

“I’m sorry I held you up by your shirt, Cas.  I saw how scared you were and-”  Dean made another choking sound and had to clear his voice before he could continue.  “I saw how scared you were and I didn’t care that you were afraid.  I’m a horrible, despicable human being for that but you should know the truth.  I feel terrible, and I hate myself for not caring that you were afraid, I’m so sorry.

“And I know I must have scarred you for life.  Jeez, I took one step towards you back there and you nearly jumped out of your skin.  I- I never wanted to hurt you, Cas.  I don’t know what came over me that day, but every day since then has been hell for me because of what I did to you.  I _swear to you_ I will _never_ hurt you again, Cas.”

Dean was so adamant and his voice so tormented it made a lump form in Castiel’s throat like he was about to cry.  He didn’t know what to say, he hadn’t been expecting such a heartfelt apology from Dean for his part of their fight.

“I’m sorry too, Dean.  I shouldn’t have punched you.”

Dean laughed humorlessly.  “I deserved it.  And that doesn’t excuse my actions at all.”

Castiel sighed deeply and passed a hand over his face.  He turned in his seat to face Dean.  The taller boy looked wrecked with tears running down his face, and Castiel took pity on him.  

Isn’t this what he wanted, after all?  To be able to move past last week and be friends with Dean?  Didn’t he say last week that he’d be able to forgive Dean for scaring him and throwing him against the wall?

Castiel’s words were out of his mouth in a heartbeat, spoken so softly and sincerely that Dean seemed to barely catch them.

“I forgive you.”

Dean sat up straight and looked at Castiel like he could hardly hope to believe his ears.  “What?”  Dean asked, sounding like he was choking again.

“I said I forgive you for your part in our fight.”

All the breath in Dean’s lungs seemed to leave him at the same time.  The taller boy sagged against the bench and his face broke out into the biggest smile Castiel had ever seen on his face.

“Really, Cas?  Just like that?”  Dean was crying again, he hastily wiped his face dry only for more tears to come streaming down his cheeks.

“Yeah, I’d- I’d like to move past this.  We both made mistakes that day, but it doesn’t mean the world has to end.  We can dust ourselves off, promise not to do it again, and go inside and be friends.”  Castiel stumbled a little over the word ‘friends’ and bit his lip.  He ached to be more than friends with Dean, he wanted to plant kisses on every freckle on the boy’s face, get wrapped up in those strong arms and get lost in the smell of Dean’s leather jacket and-.

Castiel wrenched his thoughts away from anything to do with cuddling.  He had to stop thinking of Dean like that.  Dean was straight, he didn’t want Castiel.  All Castiel’s fantasies would do is make friendship with Dean more difficult.

“I promise.”  Dean said wholeheartedly.  “I’ll never do anything like that again, Cas.”

“Me too.”  Castiel gave Dean a small grin that Dean returned with a blinding smile of his own.

“Come on Dean.”  Castiel stood and half-turned toward the school.  “Let’s go dance.”  Friends could dance, right?  That didn’t mean anything.

Dean wiped his face dry again, stood up eagerly, and the two boys started walking together up to the school.  Castiel had taken around a dozen steps when he noticed that Dean had fallen behind.

“Cas, wait.”  Dean was looking at his shoes again and rubbing his palm against his chest.  “I, uh, thank you for forgiving me for the fight.  It means a lot to me and I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I can’t dance with you.”

“Why?”  Castiel asked, pain flaring in his chest again.  He knew why.  Dean didn’t want to dance with him because Castiel had been _painfully_ _obvious_ that he liked Dean as more than a friend.  And Dean was straight, he wouldn’t want to dance with another boy in front of the entire school, people would start to think _he_ was gay.

Castiel knew that Dean didn’t look down on him for being gay, but asking a straight boy to dance with him in front of everyone was too much.

“It’d be so easy to accept your apology,”  Dean began sincerely.  “And it’s tempting to go about my life acting like pushing you was the only thing I did wrong.  But I hurt you in other ways that day, and you deserve an apology for what I did with Ashley.”  

This wasn’t about Dean’s image, then?  Castiel was silent for several moments as his brain screeched to a halt.

“I- I, uh, for doing _what_ with Ashley?”  Castiel said, stumbling over his words as he tried to work out why on earth Dean would feel the need to apologize.

Dean looked ashamed of himself again and motioned to the bench.  Castiel followed his friend back in a daze.  Once they were both seated, Dean took a deep breath and spoke to his feet.

“That was, _awful,_ the way you found out about us.”

Castiel’s breath hitched as Dean confirmed what he’d suspected; Dean knew Castiel liked him.

“I was stupid, I hadn’t thought it through.  I realize now that no matter how you found out, it would have been horrible.”  Dean paused and took a steadying breath.  “I’m sorry, Cas.  I should have done so many things differently.”

Why was Dean saying this?  Why would he think he owes Castiel an apology for getting a girlfriend?  This was stupid, Dean didn’t have to explain himself to Castiel, not for this.  They should be inside dancing right now, or sitting at a table talking and drinking punch because straight guys don’t want to dance with gay guys.

Castiel was on his feet, he didn’t want to hear Dean’s apologies.  They were motivated by pity and Castiel didn’t want to be _pitied_ for having a crush on Dean.

“Look, Dean!  I’m willing to move past this, but-.”  Castiel said loudly, giving Dean a stern look and willing him to drop it.

“I don’t deserve your forgiveness if you don’t know everything.”  Dean remained seated, though his tone and the way his jaw was set was stubborn; he was going to talk about this and there was nothing Castiel could do besides walk away.

He was considering it, he didn’t want to think about Ashley any more than was absolutely necessary.

“I should never have agreed to be Ashley’s date to the dance, it was stupid and thoughtless and all I did was hurt you.”  Dean said, his eyes begging Castiel to understand.

Castiel could sense there was some profound truth behind Dean’s statements that he wasn’t getting.  If he could just get his brain to stop short-circuiting and just _think_ , he might be able to figure it out.  As it was, all Castiel could do was shake his head stubbornly.

“Dean, you don’t have to apologize for that.   _Please_ don’t apologize for that.”  Castiel begged, feeling his body swaying as a fresh wave of pain ripped through his chest.

“I have to.”  Dean said miserably, hanging his head in his hands.

Castiel exploded on his friend.  “You don’t have to apologize for being straight, Dean!  God, it’s bad enough, what happened, but you don’t get to apologize for not liking men, it’s not your fault!”  Dean’s head snapped up and he sat up straight on the bench with a glazed look on his face.  Castiel continued, though his voice had reached the volume of yelling by now.  

“Yeah, you know what?  That sucked, walking in on you and Ashley, but I don’t want an apology for _that_ , I’m not mad about _that!_   I’m mad that you spent a week making me feel like you wanted to be with me!  You hugged me and held my hand, walked me to class and kissed my head every day and I really thought you _liked_ me!   _That’s_ why I was mad!   _That’s_ why I punched you, it had nothing to do with Ashley, it was-”  Castiel faltered, he could feel tears on his cheeks and his throat was tight, it made his voice sound strangled.

“It was because you made me feel so incredibly _loved_ and _adored_ , Dean.  No one has ever looked at me the way you did that week, and I just don’t understand how you could make me feel like that without even trying, without even liking guys.”  Castiel was shaking violently, though whether it was from emotion or the cold, he could hardly tell.  He stumbled back to the bench, pulled one leg up and wrapped his arms around his knee, and buried his face in his arms.

“What a mess.”  Dean said softly, echoing Castiel’s earlier sentiment.  Castiel nodded into his arms and tried to get a grip on himself.

 

After almost a full minute, Dean finally spoke again.

“So, Cas, there’s a lot that you need to know.  I told you I wanted to tell you everything, you deserve to know everything before you make a decision.  And I expect you’ll have a lot of questions and need some time.”  Dean paused and Castiel raised his head to look at him.  Dean was glaring at his hands, which were in his lap, anxiously folding this way and that as he thought of what he wanted to say next.

“And, uh.  If you feel you can forgive me, I just wanted to let you know now that I want to move past this with you.  In whatever way you feel comfortable with.  But if you can’t forgive me, I’ll understand, okay?”  Dean bit his lip and didn’t look up while he waited for Castiel’s answer.

“Dean, I’m serious, there’s no reason to apologize.  I let myself get worked up and that’s not your fault, I was just imagining things.  But now I know you’re straight so I can work on-.”

“I’m not straight.”  Dean interrupted.

Castiel couldn’t move besides to take shallow breaths and to blink owlishly at Dean.

“What?”  Castiel breathed.

“I’m not straight, and you weren’t imagining things.  You felt loved and adored because you were.  I was head over heels for you, Cas.  I still am.”

Castiel felt dizzy, and realized too late that he was holding his breath.  His undignified gasp flooded his lungs with frigid air.  Fresh tears were like icicles on his cheeks as he tried to make his brain fit what Dean just said into his perception of who Dean was.  It didn’t fit.

“I’m bi, Cas.  I like guys _and_ girls, but you’re the first guy I’ve ever wanted to be with for more than just their body and I didn’t know how to act.  That’s why I was so skittish, I guess, and why I couldn’t answer you when you asked what kind of tea I preferred at the bonfire, because I didn’t have the answer at the time.”  Dean paused, giving Castiel a chance to process Dean’s words.

“You- You, liked me?”  Castiel asked slowly, tasting the words as they left his mouth like he could hardly believe he was uttering them.

“I still like you.  I think you’re amazing, Cas.  You’re kind, and smart, and funny, and adorable, and you have the best smile, and you’re so talented and cooler than I’ll ever be.”  Dean finally looked away from his hands to give Castiel a wondering smile.  Dean’s eyes lit up and when Castiel saw that look back on Dean’s face, that look of adoration that made his stomach fill with butterflies, one piece of the puzzle that was Dean finally settled into place.

He hadn’t been imagining things, Dean really did like him.  He’d shown it through actions, not words, just like Castiel had originally thought.  The dark-haired boy let the memories he’d been keeping out surface, the memories of being walked to class, hugged, cared for, kissed on the top of the head.  

For a moment, it was enough to know Dean liked him, ‘head over heels’ even.  But then Castiel remembered the fight, and the week that followed.  This must have been what Dean had been talking about when he said Castiel would have questions.

“What about Ashley?”  Castiel asked softly, dropping his gaze from Dean’s eyes to gaze at the grass in front of the bench.

He heard Dean swallow loudly before the taller boy answered.  “Cas, I want you to know that she means nothing to me.  And as horrible as it is, because I know I hurt you when you found out about her, she never did mean anything to me.”

“I don’t understand.”  Castiel blurted out.  “If she didn’t mean anything to you, and you say you liked me, why would you want to be with her?”

Dean sighed heavily and took several deep breaths to steady himself before he answered.  “Because I’m an idiot, and I wasn’t thinking about you when I agreed to be Ashley’s date to the dance.”

Castiel bit his lip as Dean’s words shattered what little happiness Dean’s confession of love had instilled in his chest.  A sharp pain twisted in his stomach and his words came out flat and hollow.  “You weren’t thinking of me.”

“No.  I was only thinking about myself.”  Dean whispered, then took a deep breath and continued in a regular volume.  “I was having a difficult time with showing you affection in public.  I’ve never had any real feelings for a guy before, and you probably know that I don’t like being the center of attention.  And I’m not gonna lie, being with you was hard, Cas.  People were always staring at us when I walked you to class, or when I sat next to you at lunch.  It got to me, I was a coward and you deserve better.”  Dean paused for a moment, then continued.

“So when Ashley came to me and asked me to be her date, it was like an escape.  An easy way out, and I’m a weak man, Cas, ‘cause I took the easy way out.”

Castiel was shaking his head side to side slowly.  This didn’t make sense; Dean wasn’t a coward.  He was brave and tough and stuck up for Castiel when Tommy and Matthew were messing with him.

“Okay.”  Castiel said shakily, feeling like his heart was deflating.  Even though Dean liked him, he didn’t want to be seen with him.  Castiel couldn’t be with someone who was so ashamed of him, no matter how strongly he felt about Dean.  Castiel was starting to wish he’d stayed inside and watched Charlie and Dorothy dance.  

“So you were ashamed of me.”  Castiel said softly, hugging his chest to keep his ribs from falling apart.

Suddenly Dean was crouched on the ground in front of Castiel.  He wasn’t touching him, but the position meant that Castiel couldn’t help but meet Dean’s eyes.

Dean spoke quickly and fiercely, willing Castiel to believe him when he said “Castiel Mills, I have never _once_ been ashamed of you, do you understand me?  I have a problem with people looking at me, it’s something I’m working on, and it has nothing to do with you.  The only reason it’s a problem for _us_ is because _so many people_ look at us when we’re together.”  Dean’s voice grew soft and he hesitantly brushed Castiel’s elbow with his fingertips.

“I’m not ashamed of you, Cas, I could never be ashamed of you.  You’re the only thing that’s good in all of this.  Please believe me.”  

Castiel found himself nodding.  How could he not with Dean basically begging him to accept his words?

Dean sighed in relief and let his head drop.  He gave Castiel’s elbow a quick, reassuring squeeze before moving to take his place on the bench again.

But Dean’s explanation wasn’t complete.  Castiel waited a few moments before prompting the taller boy.

“That doesn’t answer my question, though.  Why would you want to be with her if you didn’t have any feelings for her?”  Castiel sensed Dean’s hesitation and readied himself for more heartache.

“When she asked me, I was going to say no.  I mean, I had just met her, you know?”  Dean hesitated and took a deep breath.  “Cas, I wouldn’t be telling you this if I hadn’t promised myself I’d tell you everything.”

“Just spit it out, Dean.”  Castiel said between clenched teeth.  His hands were in tight fists in his lap, he didn’t really want to know, but he knew he couldn’t move forward with Dean without knowing everything.

“She told me she had a hotel room for tonight, and that she’d sleep with me if I was her date.”

There was a moment of absolute calm in Castiel’s mind while his brain found meaning in Dean’s words.  Then there was just pain.

Dean had given up on what they’d had, and what they’d had was perfect.  But Dean had thrown it out like it was garbage, just so he could get it on with some random hookup.  Castiel couldn’t mean anything to Dean if he’d been willing to break his heart over the chance to get his dick wet.

Castiel bit his lip and rubbed his palm on his sternum, right over where the pain was centered in his chest.  He realized now why Dean had been doing the same motion earlier, rubbing there was almost enough to soothe the ache in his chest.

“So that’s it, then?  You’ll take what’s quick and easy rather than putting up with me?”  Castiel broke off with a sob and buried his face in his hands.

“Cas, I’m so sorry, it was a mistake.  A horrible mistake that I made because I was an idiot and wasn’t thinking.”  Dean scooted closer to Castiel and placed a firm hand on his back and started running his palm up and down Castiel’s spine.  He gently cupped Castiel’s bicep with his free hand and whispered apologies that Castiel could barely hear over his shaky breathing.

 

When Castiel finally calmed down, he leaned forward heavily with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands.  Dean had given him a handkerchief, the light green silk one from the front pocket of his suit.  Castiel gripped the wet fabric in his hand and focused on taking deep breaths.  Dean’s hands still held him, one on his shoulder and the other sliding over the back of his suit jacket.

Castiel slipped his hand in his pocket and checked his phone, he had felt it vibrating earlier and had ignored it.  He had two missed calls from Charlie and a text.

**From: Charlie Bradbury**

**Message:** _Hey are you okay?  You’ve been gone a long time and I looked for you outside but you weren’t there.  Call me back!_

Castiel quickly typed out that he was with Dean and he was fine.  He hit ‘send’ and slipped the phone back into his pocket.

He decided it was good to finally know the truth.  After a week of guessing, it was a relief to know exactly where Dean stood and finally get the answer to his biggest ‘why.’  

Dean had been right about another thing; Castiel wasn’t sure he could forgive Dean.  

Even though Dean had spilled his guts and answered every question honestly and made sure Castiel knew it was all Dean’s fault and not because of something Castiel had done, Castiel just wasn’t sure.  He needed time to think about all this.  Hadn’t Dean predicted that, too?

“Hey, buddy.”  Dean said softly, squeezing Castiel’s shoulders once tightly before removing his hands completely and scooting away again.  Castiel was grateful for the space; though he was glad Dean had been there during his crying session that felt more like a panic attack than a regular breakdown, he also needed the couple of feet of space between them now.

“I’m sorry, Cas.  I’m so truly, entirely sorry.  If you never want to speak to me again, I understand completely, buddy.”  Dean’s voice was soft, like he was already accepting the fact that this would be their last conversation.

“I’ve treated you terribly, and broken your trust in more ways than one.  If I could take it back, I would pay any price that came with it.  I’ll give you space, and as much time as you need.  I won’t bother you again until you’ve made up your mind, okay?”

Castiel didn’t think that was okay at all.  After the week of not speaking to Dean, the thought of him being anything but completely open with Castiel was agony.  Castiel’s face was still buried in his hands, but he shook his head and moaned out a pathetic ‘no, Dean.’

Castiel heard the quiet slipping of fabric and felt a weight settle down over his shoulders.  Dean had draped his jacket over Castiel, the smaller boy finally raised his head out of his hands to look up.

“It’s getting cold, Cas.  You should go inside.”  Dean was crouched in front of him again, was letting his hands linger on Castiel’s shoulders as he wrapped the jacket around the smaller boy.  “I’ll leave you alone now, buddy.”

Castiel gasped a little as Dean pressed a kiss into his hair.  Castiel could feel his warm breath on the top of his head, the touch made the pain in his chest lessen by a minute degree.

“You’ll always have me, Cas.”  Dean promised, his face still pressed into Castiel’s dark locks.  “In whatever way you want me.”

Castiel let his eyes slip closed, then the pressure and warmth of Dean’s face left him, and when Castiel opened his eyes, Dean was walking away.

 

Castiel didn’t want to let Dean walk away again, but when he got to his feet and started walking, it wasn’t towards Dean’s retreating form.  The dark-haired boy clutched the oversized suit jacket tight against the cold wind and walked back to the front entrance of the school.  He could hear the music from the bottom of the stairs and slowly climbed the steps to go inside.

In the bathroom, he splashed his face with warm water.  The skin around his eyes were red and blotchy, and there were two matching dark circles on his face, but his cheeks held a bright swirl of red and he felt lighter than he had all week.  He took a deep breath as he studied his reflection, wondering how he could feel better after the bombshell Dean just dropped on him.  He shook his head at himself and went to find Charlie.

He didn’t tell his best friend everything, there was no need to drag Dean’s name through the mud, but he told her enough of what had transpired that she could probably piece together the rest if she tried.

“What are you gonna do?”  She asked, pressing a cup of punch into his hands.

“I have no idea.”  Castiel answered honestly, and chugged the punch in one go.

“Are you mad at him?”

“Yeah, very.  He’s a jerk.”  Castiel said.

“He probably is, but he’s your jerk.”  Charlie leaned forward and gave him a hug.  “Are you gonna forgive him?”

“I hope so.”  Castiel said with a small nod.

“What are you gonna do?”  Charlie asked again, and this time it seemed somewhat rhetorical.

“I guess try to start over.”  Castiel said, but it sounded like a question.  “I don’t want to even think about dating, you know?  But we can try being friends, and see what happens.”

A deep, commanding voice interrupted whatever Charlie was about to say.  

“Castiel, I need to talk to you.”  Michael said, standing over the two friends.  It was odd to see him without Lucifer standing at his side, even for Castiel.  The two barely separated, even at home they seemed joined at the hip.

“Um, okay.”  Castiel said hesitantly, standing to follow his eldest brother out of the gym.  Michael led him to the auditorium, where the lights were low and the music from the dance couldn’t reach them.  The brothers sat on the floor behind the last row of seats with their backs against the wall.

“Dean wanted me to check on you.”  Michael started, side-eyeing Castiel.

“You spoke to Dean?”  Castiel asked, surprised.  He’d gotten the impression that Michael and Dean disliked each other, something that had seemed to have only gotten worse since Castiel and Dean’s fight.

“No, he texted me.”  Michael said.

“He has your _number?_ ”  Castiel nearly shrieked, turning to face his brother with a look of bewilderment on his face.  “He has _your_ number?  Since when?”

“Since last Thursday, when Lucifer and I jumped him.”

Castiel gave his brother a disbelieving look.  “So, what?  You nearly beat his skull in and then you two were kosher?  Got his digits before leaving him to piece together his face?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”  Michael turned to face Castiel, silencing the younger brother with a look.  “He wanted me to check on you.  Why would he say that?”

Castiel hesitated.  The last thing he wanted right now was for Michael to decide Dean needed to be taught another lesson, and Dean _had_ broken a promise by speaking to Castiel.

“I heard about the fountain incident.”  Michael prompted.  “Did it have anything to do with that?”

“Kinda.”  Castiel admitted.

“Did you two talk?”

“Yeah.”  Castiel said with a defeated sigh.  “He apologized a lot, and explained some things.”

“Good.”  Michael said thoughtfully, nodding his head and looking at the ceiling.

“Uh, good?”  Castiel asked, not caring that his voice squeaked up a few octaves in surprise when he said it.

“Yes, good.  He told me a little about what happened last week, and I know that you liked him.  He owed you an explanation and I’m glad he was man enough to do it.”

“Shouldn’t you be telling me to stay away from him?  That he’s no good for me?”  Castiel asked, surprised by the direction the conversation had taken.

“Is that what Gabriel’s been telling you?”  Michael asked, and Castiel nodded.  “Gabriel’s too involved, I think.  You know how long it’s been since he’s had a friend.  If you and Dean dated and broke up, it could mess up their friendship.  I imagine Gabriel’s advice is to keep you _and_ him safe.”

Huh.  Castiel hadn’t thought of that.

“So what are you saying?  That I should forgive Dean?”

“I’m not going to tell you what to do, Shorty.”  Michael said affectionately.  “Whether you forgive him or not is entirely up to you.  And if you wanted to be his friend after, or something more, that’s up to you as well.”  A long moment stretched between them while Castiel absorbed his brother’s words.

“I don’t know what to think.”  Castiel whispered.

“Me neither, it’s a damn mess.”  Michael joked, then quickly turned serious again.  

“But I think he’d be good for you, especially now that he knows what it’s like to lose you.  I don’t think he’d mess up again.”  The way Michael said it, one would think it was the most obvious thing in the world.  As it was, it made Castiel’s jaw drop.  No one had ever said such things to him about Dean Winchester.

“Are you serious?”  Castiel asked, looking at his brother like he’d grown an extra head.  Michael sighed softly and took a moment to decide his next words.

“He’s an idiot, I’ll be the first to admit.  And he’s got a temper and I’d literally kill him if he got physical with you again.  But I’ve talked to him a lot this past week and got to know him a bit.  He’s a good guy, if you decide to forgive him, he’d be a good friend to you.”

“I don’t want him to be my friend.  Not really.”  Castiel whispered, looking down at his shoes.  Michael seemed to catch his meaning.

“Then take it slow, make him work for it, I’d hate to see him hurt you again.  Friends first, and all that.  You deserve nothing less than the best, and Dean needs to prove that to you.”  Michael clapped his younger brother on the shoulder before standing and leaving Castiel in the back of the auditorium.

 

Castiel found Dean sitting in the driver’s seat of his impala.  The dark-haired boy couldn’t resist sneaking up to Dean’s window and smacking the glass, making Dean scream and nearly jump out of his skin.  Castiel doubled over in laughter as Dean exited the car with a small smile.

“You think that’s funny?”  Dean asked, barely even pretending to be upset.  Castiel could only squint through his tears and nod for how hard he was laughing.

The dark-haired boy only had a split second of warning before he was wrapped in Dean’s arms and pulled into a tight hug.  Castiel let his palms caress the small of Dean’s back as he clutched Dean to him.

“How ya’ doing, Cas?”  Dean asked softly, his breath warm against the top of Castiel’s head.  The shorter boy shrugged and didn’t answer, choosing to focus solely on deeply breathing in the scent of Dean’s cologne.  Dean sighed and rubbed his palms on Castiel’s back, seemingly in no rush to talk so they could enjoy this moment.

“I know we have a lot to talk about, but for tonight, I’d just like to dance.”  Castiel said, tilting his head back to look at Dean.  The taller boy gave him a small smile and looked at him with half-lidded eyes.

“I’d like that.”  Dean said simply.

 

Castiel didn’t know if Dean was much of a dancer, but that didn’t really matter.  After three years of lessons Castiel had gotten good, and he loved showing off on the dance floor.

“Try to keep up.”  He warned Dean, giving him a challenging look with a raised eyebrow as a new song started.  Dean had flashed a nervous smile as he let himself be dragged to the middle of the floor.

After a few songs, Dean had almost got the hang of swing dancing.  He kept his eyes on Castiel’s feet and tried to mimic the light twisting of Castiel’s legs and even met with some success.  He was the best at dipping Castiel, and did so frequently, so much so that Castiel felt comfortable throwing his weight against Dean’s arms with little warning to his partner.  Dean caught him with confidence every time.

Dean was a goofy dancer, he preferred to move his shoulders more than his hips and he made weird faces while he danced.  It made Castiel laugh and the shorter boy mimicked Dean’s odd dance moves while shuffling his feet.  Before too long, the last song of the night was announced.  It was a slow song, and Dean didn’t waste any time in pulling Castiel in close by the small of his back and burying his face in the shorter boy’s hair.  Castiel placed a hand on Dean’s arm and slipped his fingers into Dean’s free hand.

“This is nice.”  Dean said, dipping his head low so he could murmur in Castiel’s ear.

“It is.”  The dark haired boy agreed, swaying on the spot.  “You should be my dance partner for the next dance.”

Dean chuckled and squeezed Castiel’s hand.  “It’s a date.”  He promised, then gasped softly at his word choice.  “That is, if you want it to be a date, it doesn’t have to-.”

“It’s a date.”  Castiel agreed, hushing Dean as he tried to backtrack.  The next dance was months away, anyway.  The couple swayed in silence for a few moments before Dean asked Castiel a question.

“Cas?  Does this mean you..?”  Dean trailed off, and when Castiel looked up, the taller boy had his lower lip between his teeth and had a worried look on his face as he looked into the shorter boy’s eyes.

“I’m considering it.”  Castiel said slowly.  He’d love to forgive Dean, but it’d been a hell of a week.

“You’re an angel.”  Dean breathed, pulling Castiel even closer and dropping him into a deep and unexpected dip.  “Thank you, Cas.”

Castiel hugged the taller boy, saying “Of course, Dean.”

 

Dean offered to drive Castiel home, but the dark-haired boy insisted he’d let his mom drive him.  The two stood near Castiel’s mom’s patrol car while they waited for their families to leave the dance.

“What are you doing tomorrow?”  Dean asked hopefully.  “I’m not trying to assume anything, I know tomorrow’s Valentine’s day, but maybe we could just, hang out?”

Castiel smiled at Dean’s nervous tone.  “I’m free tomorrow afternoon.”

“Okay!”  Dean’s triumphant smile was blinding.  “I’ll pick you up at, say, two?  What do you want to do?”  Castiel bit his lip while he thought.

“I don’t know, we could catch a movie if there’s one you’d like to see.  What did you want to do?”  Castiel glanced up at Dean’s half-smile before the dirty blonde pulled on his thinking face.

“We could go to Frankie’s, they have mini golf.”  

“Movies and mini golf it is.”  Castiel said as a voice called Dean’s name.

Sam was waving at them from the parking lot, and Dean made an impatient gesture to his brother before turning back to Castiel.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then, Cas.  Good night.”  Dean smiled softly as their eyes met, and reached out and let his fingers briefly touch Castiel’s arm.

“Good night, Dean.”  Castiel stepped forward and wrapped the taller boy in a hug.  Dean wrapped his arms around him, letting his hands mold to the curve of Castiel’s back and sides.

“You’re too good for me, Cas.”  Dean murmured, his breath warm on the top of Castiel’s head.  “I’m gonna do better for you.  I promise.”  Castiel hummed appreciatively and let his head rest on Dean’s collarbone.

“You’d better, after the shit you pulled.”  Castiel meant it to be joking, but Dean pulled back and when Castiel’s eyes met his, they were serious.

“I’m sorry, Cas.  I truly am.”  Dean said softly but with conviction.

“I know.”  He had a hard time keeping the sadness out of his voice.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”  Dean flashed him a small smile.

“Two o’clock.”  Castiel agreed.  “Don’t be late.”

“Thank you, Cas.”  Dean said, once again turning serious.  “I don’t deserve a second chance at being your friend.  Thank you for at least considering giving me one.”  Castiel’s lips tightened into a line and he nodded sharply.  Dean flashed him another half-smile and turned towards the parking lot.

Castiel watched Dean’s retreating form until the dirty blonde’s figure got lost between the parked cars.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and Happy New Year!
> 
> This work will eventually get a second part, but I like where this ended, so part one is done!

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on tumblr! @martianmaddie and @martianmaddiewrites
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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